Sacrifice, it's a human sign
by Letskillallthelawyers
Summary: (Starting in season 6A, sort of) After Mike went to prison, everyone is trying to adjust to the new reality. Harvey and Donna have to deal with the consequences of a faithful night and, soon, a following attack to the firm.
1. Chapter 1

**Alright, here we are again! I'm taking this brand new story to you in hopes it can go on smoothly. Now, the last one helped me understand better how it's like to find your balance, but I still struggle a little with multi-chapters and this one in particular is tough.**

**This is also why I would really appreciate if someone could maybe get a look at my current work. I'm new about betas and everything and have no clue about the dynamics, but if someone would like to give me an opinion without too much obligation, I'd be glad.**

**So, we're in season six, where we unfortunately didn't get a lot of Darvey scenes, but don't worry, in this fic there's going to be more than enough action! This chapter deals with the events of the first two episodes, and almost all of them are real, except this time we see them influenced by something that happened during the first one! Have fun reading!**

**G-**

**Chapter 1: I can't handle change**

To trouble.

They had clinked expensive glasses, filled with even more expensive scotch, in honor of the 'trouble' maker that had them get together in Harvey's office in the middle of the night in the first place. The firm was deserted, except for the five of them and the dedicated IT employee, Benjamin.

As much as the situation had an uncanny similarity with a funny modern replica of the Breakfast Club, what was underneath was far more severe. They weren't teenagers strolling down the hallway of their high school, but goddamn grownups lurking inside their fort, making it look alive from the outside.

Instead of the common law of nature 'fake death to survive', they had chosen to take the complete opposite direction, pretending to be still standing to protect themselves and prevent their imminent dismantlement.

Curious enough, Harvey mirrored the building's emptiness perfectly. He appeared stern and in control, lively even — now that he was under the effects of the joint he had smoked with the other name partners — but in reality he was just burying down the guilt that was threatening to eat him alive.

Despite the self-consciousness that what they had done hadn't been an unilateral choice, therefore neither the consequences, he couldn't help but constantly remind himself that Mike was sitting inside a cell instead of him. The kid was the one and only reason he got to spend the night in his own bed; tonight and every night for the next two years. _Damn it_, it was going to be hard. And that made him feel even worse, because he'd been thinking about himself when it must be totally harder for Mike.

The space was filled with silence, sign of mutual respect for the missing piece of their unwritten group. Each of them succumbed in their own melancholic travel down the memory line, trying to understand how they got there, but more importantly, where they'll go next. The quietness wasn't awkward, they didn't need to engage any kind of conversation — they certainly weren't gathered there for that.

They simply didn't want to be alone. Some of them acknowledging that more than others, but the urge to find strength in each other and to be with the only ones that could truly understand what they were going through was undeniable.

They were adjusting, figuring out the next move to raise, like the phoenix from the ashes. Save the savable, and hopefully get Mike out of that hell of a place too.

Ignoring that his thoughtful cell-mate was really pulling all the strings behind their backs, the text from his former associate made Harvey believe that, at least for the night, everything was going smoothly.

Four or five hours in, everyone had finally given up to exhaustion and gone home. Well, everyone except Donna. But that wasn't anything new.

She had always been the exception. The one who had stood by his side, step by step — always guiding, never pushing — not once abdicating the unsung role of loyal and supportive consultant in his life. A role which no one had ever asked her to chair. She, the silent leader of everything that he is, the reason of everything that he's ever accomplished.

Donna could've really had everything —certainly more than he had to offer — and she had never asked anything in return. Yet, she had given all of herself to him, wholeheartedly.

Thinking about it, that woman had always been his voice of reason, his moral compass, and maybe he didn't give her enough credit.

She had never allowed anyone to see her break a sweat, but Harvey figured she must be suffering too. And maybe it was time they let each other take a piece 'cake', to equally share and make the pain more bearable.

It was useless to try and shrink a cubic box into a squared one. It wouldn't fit.

Their minds weren't apparently adequate to survive alone, or maybe they were but they didn't necessarily have to live without each other. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to let the curtain of the show fall, and show off what the backstage truly held.

It was probably because of the commotion that surrounded them, or the thrill that having the firm all for themselves brought, or the need to feel something rather than perdition, that they did what they did later. One moment their fingers were merely brushing against each other, when she had handed him the spent drinks, the next Donna was hopped onto the surface of Harvey's desk, with him buried deep inside of her.

The couple then took a cab, wordlessly, heading to the nearest of their apartments, with the droplets of sweet sweat still glistening their temples, and bellies still contracted by their post-coital haze. They kept the twelve-years-in-the-making rendezvous going almost all night, wrapped in each other's embrace and fucking every other thought that wasn't the way they felt against each other out of their heads.

After too little hours of sleep, they woke up together, in Harvey's bed, sun hitting their naked bodies fully, since that man clearly liked French windows. As much as he had feared the confrontation that the 'morning after' would have eventually brought, Harvey soon found Donna thinking the same: it wasn't the right time.

The fault weren't his commitment issues, neither her not being on the same page, but they both realized that trying to turn their night into something more lasting wasn't probably the best call. At least right now. Their energies had to be focused solely and totally on Mike, and getting the firm back on its feet. Embarking a relationship with this new set of priorities could probably end them before they even started. And that couldn't happen. There was too much at stake and they cared too much about each other. They had to keep their impending goal in mind, not allowing any kind of distraction.

It was a raincheck, really. Once it all started to look more like normality, then they would talk. No hard feelings. Easy. Like drinking a glass of water. At least that's what they told themselves to not listen to their hearts virtually breaking, after leaving without turning around and heading to opposite directions. The taste of each other's lips still vividly printed, almost carved, in their memory.

* * *

Donna told herself to be on top of her game. Efficient, like she had never been before. She _knew_ Jessica, as well as Louis and everyone else, all needed her, and she wasn't about to shy away from a challenge.

At least not now when she was needed the most.

Because she may not be the one with a Harvard degree, or the one signing clients, yet, her charming ability and maneuvering skills topped that all. Not to mention that she knew well her colleagues, and was aware that sooner or later they would blame each other for this mess.

Harvey for hiring a fraud.

Jessica for not supervising it all.

Louis for using Mike's secret as a way to get his name on the wall.

It was her job to be their voice of reason, and silently pulling the strings if necessary. It could be excruciating sometimes, but, at the end, she did it because she truly cared about them — because she believed in them. And having the few ones that stayed around at each other's throats wasn't an option. They needed to understand they were all in the same boat.

Donna came to realize that maybe it wasn't necessarily bad that everyone was gone. It could be a good opportunity to help them all get closer, but it did wonders particularly for her persona. As a matter of fact, her sticking around made her feel like she was an integral part of the institution she had fought teeth and nails for, that helped build up and supported in growing — and when something hers was threatened, she was all in.

No one touched her family.

So when she had heard that Rachel was prevented to see Mike, she had presented to her door, smoothies in hand, knowing smile and impeccable outfit. She had, yet again, stepped into the already heated shoes of the 'adjuster', a human Alexa, always ready to fulfill your needs. (Better not thinking about hers at the moment.)

Perhaps, arranging a visit to prison for her best friend was the perfect excuse to push away the night she had just shared with Harvey. And even if the ghost of his soft lips still hovered her sensitive neck, Donna was a willful woman — she sucked it up and went on. Gritting her teeth, but her legs most of all.

As she stepped out of her friends' building, Rachel in tow, she welcomed the new version of herself.

She was fresh. She was ready. She was whole and fine.

She was the Donna they all needed her to be.

* * *

As for Harvey, things weren't going as well as someone would think.

Point taken for the commitment, but he didn't seem able to be as well-functioning as Donna. The problem had presented itself when Rachel had come to his office, flustered and annoyed, implying that something had happened to Mike. Despite acting cool and not fomenting her worry, Harvey smelled trouble.

Donna was there too.

It had been his first interaction with her after... well, _after_. He realized in that moment they had indeed done the right thing deciding to wait. Even if waiting had become increasingly more difficult — their impromptu sex the blatant proof of that — they clearly had their hands full of something else. Starting anything rushed — product of fear and scare to be lonely, right when the next problem was just around the corner — was not fair to any of them.

So he had addressed her in the most professional way he knew — instructing her to arrange things with Ray to drive him to Danbury.

Business, as usual.

Harvey's fears were soon confirmed by a quick visit to Mike, who acknowledged his bickering with Frank Gallo, the accessory to murder he put behind the bars when he was just a fellow ADA. That man was a loaded gun, ready to shoot, and Harvey couldn't accept that. As much as he could have just lifted a finger and make this 'bump in the road' just disappear, Mike basically forced him to sit tight and have faith that he could handle it on his own. But how was he supposed to do that, lie to his friend's fiancée and handle the lawsuits that were thrown to his face, all without exploding? Fucking impossible.

As cherry on top of the cake, Elliott Stemple had the audacity to ask him to choose between an unutterable amount of money or his duck painting, in exchange of freeing Pearson Specter Litt from bankruptcy.

And that, that almost killed him. He had tried to play it cool, but Stemple saw right through his façade and pressed right were it hurt.

Harvey was left dumbfounded, not able to access a such despicable gesture. He had a handful of seconds to make one of the most rending decisions of his life: to save the last good memory of a lost family, or to save the firm that had slowly become one itself?

"Take the painting." He chocked out — hating himself for the quiver in his voice.

At the end, he had thought about what was best for everyone, willing to let go of the last piece of him that kept his mother close, at least somehow. He had sacrificed what was long lost to what he could still hold onto. It had made sense.

Yet, that too familiar feeling of guilt and helplessness was still very much present, so Harvey came to seek comfort to the only place that came to his mind. He presented himself to the 206 apartment that night — almost pleading Donna to take him in her arms and make it all go away. Or at least make him forget.

The second she had seen the look on his face, she instantly figured that something was off. He was like a lost sailor, more of a lost child, and that irrepressible need of protection towards him made her understand that whatever was bugging him had something to do with his mother.

So she opened the door to her house — as well as her heart — and patiently listened to him. She had wanted to be close to him, breaking her rule for what was now the third time — allowing herself to make love to and with him once more.

It didn't get lost on both of them how easier it had been to fall into bed again, and how harder it was to leave.

This time, Donna had truly understood the sense of 'you can never go back', and even if in the past she had managed to swallow those feelings that threatened to surface, now something was definitely making the difference. This time something was definitely going to break.

"We can't do this anymore, Harvey." She had reasoned with heavy heart. "We agreed that it would have been distracting."

Harvey wanted to shout what a couple of idiots they were, that maybe supporting each other_ that way_ could be beneficial during these though times. But what came out was only a nod of his head.

_Not now, maybe soon_ — he thought.

* * *

A couple of days later, things had quickly escalated when Cahill had vaguely hinted that Mike was dipping his toes in the water with an informer, position that made Gallo basically untouchable.

Harvey had to postpone of an hour an important business dinner with that 'asshole' — as he liked to call him — of Nathan Burns, with the number one aim to sign him.

The firm was in need of a high-profile client, to send a message of strength to the outside world, while he could not accept William Sutter's offer.

Nevertheless, Mike was in deep trouble and his safety came first. The other obligations would have to wait.

After the seemingly fair heated conversation with his incarcerated friend, provoked by his recent founding, during his visit hours, Harvey was making his way to the parking lot of the prison.

Spotting a black Lexus, he gladly found out that Ray had already arrived to pick him up.

"What you doing here again, Specter?" A rather marked voice called from behind. The familiar strong accent far too pungent on his back. _What a metaphor._

He slowly turned around, already bothered by the imminent and unwanted conversation. His eyes settled around the partially hunched frame of Frank Gallo, leaning against the security fence wrapping the grey courtyard of Danbury.

"I could ask you the exact same thing." Harvey promptly bit back, approaching the other end of the iron line. "Missing me already? It hasn't been that long since you've last been expecting me out here."

Gallo laughed heartily.

"Just because I wanted to make sure you'd still rush here to any of your protege's booty calls." He snickered, amicably patting his two companions' massive chests.

"I'm sorry to break it to you, but it was actually me who called."

"Oh," Gallo's face broke in fake disbelief, "I actually thought Mike, here, wanted you to come to the rescue... after what happened to his friend."

Harvey's blood begun to boil into his veins.

"What did you do?" He asked menacingly, stepping a few feet closer till they were almost face-to-face.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I just know that that poor thing, Kevin, got beaten up pretty badly..." He trailed off.

Harvey didn't hesitate one second before angrily slamming his fist against enclosure, hoping to get to his smug face.

"Harvey!" A feminine voice reached his ears. _Her voice_. His animal instincts suddenly dried out as a warming sense of tenderness filled him. He turned around to meet Donna's exquisite form, stepping out of his car, a signal she was probably waiting for him inside, but had decided to intervene after witnessing the whole scene.

"Donna?" He wondered under his breath, but loud enough for the other's to hear.

"You need to get back to the office. _Now_." She shouted from her position — voice steady, but also colored with a hint of plead.

Harvey watched between her distant silhouette and Gallo, addressing him again, "If that happens one more time, I swear to-"

"Harvey!" Donna recaptured his attention, this time a little bit more demanding.

_Please _— her eyes seemed to be saying — _it's not worth it._

And with that last bump, he threw one more hateful look at the convict and his sidekicks, and then walked away.

In that moment, for the tiniest bit, so faint she can affirm it happened only in her imagination, as Donna silently withdrew her winning, her eyes found Gallo's.

In that split of seconds, their gazes locked together, and she felt something sinister invading her. A chilling sixth sense, that she instantly tried to shake away, diverting her attention to Harvey joining her in the car.

As he stepped into the vehicle, she could swear she still sensed his somber stare.

"Who's that?" Gallo asked to his tall dark-haired inmate, nodding in the direction of the already gone car.

"Who? Red?" He continued spurred by Frank's quiet response, "Dunno. As far as I've heard her name's Donna and she works with him. I might have it looked it up, if you want to."

"You saw how mr. wild stallion became all soft with just a word from that woman. Trust me," he added with a mischievous grin and a pat on the shoulder, "she's a keeper."

**Alright, if you arrived here, thank you for giving this first chapter a try! I promise you that if you tune in for the next chapter(s), you won't regret it. Let's just say that the title is very meaningful for where this fic will head. Spread kindness and leave a review if you can!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, first things first: I wanna thank you from the bottom of my heart for the lovely words in response to the first chapter. I was and currently am super nervous about this story, though that the first two chapters might be boring, that people wouldn't be interested and give up, there I could have focused on dialogue... so there are really a thousand things that make me insecure, but with your support it definitely gets easier!**

**So, this chapter deals with events from episode three to episode eight. Enjoy!**

**G-**

**Chapter 2: Heart on your sleeve like you've never been loved**

If staying away from each other had been extremely difficult in the span of two days, things had certainly been facilitated as time went by.

As a matter of fact, the next few days, weeks to be generous, were mainly painted by tenacious fights over control and adaptions to this new chapter of their lives.

Everyone was doing just what they had promised the night Mike went to prison — committing to give the firm every ounce of blood, sweat and tears they had left.

Rachel had slowly begun to find her balance again — starting on the right foot once she took over a case of the death row. As much as she constantly thought about Mike, she came to the conclusion that time passed by quicker for good, if she put her energies on something else rather than just pining away for him.

Jessica had given her a hand, and had surprisingly found out that she liked working with Rachel, just as much as saving Leonard Bailey's life. Weighting that, and all the obligations her position bought along, had ultimately resulted in one hell of a challenge. Being the captain of a shipwrecked boat wasn't a child's play, but she was confident she could handle it. It gave her a purpose, and helped her rediscover and keep in touch with the true reason she became a lawyer after all. As a teenager, she had found the will to stand up against the tyranny of her demanding father and follow the ideals she truly believed in — turns out that returning to the field, being a player again, and not just the coach, reminded her that.

Being in court most of the day was also one more reason not to witness to the mess that had become the fiftieth floor.

Crawling with new tenants, the bullpen — but the concept can be easily expanded to the whole office — had slowly turned into a living hell. The classical and tastefully decorated space now resembled more Manhattan during New Year's Eve. There were big screens everywhere, showing the newest updates about stocks and business shares — all well portrayed by mandatory graphics. The phones wouldn't stop ringing and chaos reigned supreme above the hustle and bustle of the people flying from their desks to their friends' — apparently unaware of the word 'sitting down'.

And not to miss anything, they had purchased a basketball, equipped with a rim. Generally, it looked like they were training for the next NBA's game, instead of reading Wall Street's stock indexes.

The rabble of young traders that inhabited that land were also making Louis go nuts each passing day. The poor man had wanted to help just by himself, but it didn't even take a day to prove that Donna had indeed been right and he had shit the bed.

With the brokers' lease expiring in eighteen months, the lawyers were forced to make room for these noisy intruders. But they weren't just noisy, _hell no_ — they were fizzy, and savage, and gross.

Basically dickheads.

Stu Buzzini, chief of the satellite division, had been the greatest one so far. A true pain in the ass, he had already desecrated Louis' mugs and authority, letting his childishness win over. But Donna had seen more beneath the layer of recklessness and money mania, and had put herself on the first line to mend their fences.

Truth to be told, it was working quite well now, and she was glad to have something that required her whole attention.

Well, that and helping Louis with his new love interest.

The secretary wouldn't have given their relationship a day — considering it had started with a lie and how it only seemed to get more complicated. Donna knew her friend's peculiarities well enough to be able to foresee that he was embarking in something too big for him and he would consequently ask for her help.

They always do.

She had welcomed the distraction, telling herself that some 'Louis drama' would cheer her up. She was willing to do it all, even buy a beach house overnight to cover his idiotic attempt to save his ass. Her inclination, though, radically shifted when her boyfriend, Mitchell, had come back from his two-weeks business trip to Cincinnati.

As much as it was horrible to admit, she had completely forgotten about him. Like his presence in her life for the last few months had been insignificant. Truthfully, comparing the turn of the newest events to their relationship — yeah, it seemed pretty insignificant.

When she had slept with Harvey that faithful night, Mitchell had been the last thing on her mind. To be fair, that night and the other ones that came, he had been completely erased by her brain. Until her phone had buzzed one morning, and her former boyfriend's name had flashed upon her screen, as well as her mind.

'_Just landed back in NYC. Can't wait to see you, I missed you so much. Have something important to tell you.'_

_Yeah, me too_, she thought. _I cheated on you while you were gone, how does that sound?_

And yet, as hard as she tried to convince herself that she must've regretted her past choices, she didn't. She felt bad for him — of course she did — but being with Harvey hadn't felt wrong. In fact, it had felt more than right in any possible way. She had been sensing more infidelity when she was dating Mitchell, than when she had had her clandestine lovemaking sessions with Harvey.

Oh god, she was in deep trouble.

Minutes later, Donna had texted him back, arranging a simple dinner as an occasion to sort things out. What she certainly couldn't have prevented was for him to ask her to move in together, oblivious that her sole purpose was to break up. The following moments were just a lame flood of excuses, those notorious phrases you use when you starkly want to get rid of someone. As much as Donna hated them and thought Mitchell deserved some honesty, she didn't have it in her to deal with it anymore. She had already been cranky and uptight the whole week, and this tiresome and awkward dinner only made things worse.

As she left his apartment with both a broken heart and a weight off her shoulders, she wondered how many other decent guys she would to push away again for Harvey Specter. All of this in hopes — since she has memory — that he would wrap his head around them.

* * *

Donna had been conflicted the whole morning whether or not to tell Harvey about her temporary 'amnesia', and basically the fact that she had drawn him to become the one thing he loathed.

She couldn't quite pinpoint what it was that prompted her to be so sincere with him — did she feel guilty after all? Why feel guilty for him and not for Mitchell?

One thing was for sure: it shouldn't have happened like that.

Because she would lie if she didn't admit she thought about them being together over the years. But every time she had dared to be open to slightest possibility of _them_, she had envisioned a heart-to-heart talk, or them taking the plunge after some kind of epiphany. Never, therefore, she had considered her formally being with another man. But Donna had been convinced she couldn't wait around forever, that she owed herself more, and had settled for a nice man like Mitchell. The last thing she would have expected was to _finally_ have sex with Harvey under those circumstances.

I mean, they had managed to avoid physical contact for twelve years, why couldn't they keep it in their pants just until things where back to normal again?

A strange tingle spread through the surface of her skin as she smoothed down the fabric of her dress. She hadn't worn a wide-skirt in years, but she had gladly traded her usual for a smoother one, since it had felt too snug around her midsection when she had tried her outfits on earlier.

Reaching her desk, she casually threw a glance over Harvey's office, finding it empty. He was still in court. That meant she still had a little more time to wrap her head about how to act.

Her mind suddenly wandered to Scottie, and how the woman had slept with Harvey when she was involved with another man. About to marry another man, more precisely.

Donna had later witnessed to Harvey trying to cope with a blame that wasn't his in the first place, and handle all the contrasting feelings that were once bottled up, but now set free. How she had wished she could have assured him that he hadn't done anything wrong. That he was the victim in that situation, not the offender. That it had only been that unfaithful woman's fault.

Well, now she's t_hat woman_.

She felt sick to her stomach at the thought of breaking him down like that, making him doubt of himself and the man he'd become after all these years. On top of that, she couldn't throw this bomb on him while he had so many side effects of Mike's departure to handle.

Harvey had been busting his ass off to try and make everyone happy, and he was wasted — till the brim of sanity. He was operative day and night, veering between everyday business by light, and plotting secret deals in the dark.

He was trying his hardest to navigate his strategy to be a compelling lawyer for Sutter, who was really trying to prosecute, and cut an agreement with Sean to get Mike out of prison at the same time.

It became obvious how wearing all these masks and being versatile enough to switch them quickly was starting to tear him apart. Because he may had been near to cross the line of justice a few times — his gambling soul pushing him there — but he had never been dishonest. And now it just seemed like he was just playing a merciless game.

It was harder to remember all the pawns he had moved and how he had moved them. He had arrived to the point where he could easily call the federal police and rat everything about his nasty involvement with Cahill. And as much as Harvey told himself that he was doing it to save his good friend Mike from prison, he had brought his ethics down to a bottom he didn't like at all.

But one thing at a time, there will be plenty of occasions to go to confession. Once Mike could see further than a barbed wire.

So no, Donna couldn't be yet another person to backstab him — to steal his focus.

At this point, things with Mitchell were over and she wasn't dating Harvey, so there was no use in adding some insignificant detail that could still result in the signal to open the floodgates.

Her inner monologue ceased at the sound of the phone ringing.

"Harvey Specter's office." She answered raising the cornet.

It was Mike on the line, telling her that Gallo was pressuring him to move forward with his parole hearing. The convict was also threatening him to tell his inmate Kevin about the deal with Cahill. Little did he now there was no 'Mike and Cahill' anymore, since his superiors had implied he hadn't held his end of the bargain.

Mike had been pissed, understandable. So Donna had tried to reassure him, "I know that and Harvey knows that, and he's trying to get your deal back." She had tried, but her voice had failed somewhere at the end of the phrase. Tears begun to blur her vision. _Was she crying now?_

She hadn't been this sensitive in... forever.

"Well, you tell him that while he's getting around to making Cahill honor his goddamn word, maybe he could take just a minute to honor his word and get Gallo his goddamn parole hearing."

And then he had hung up.

Yes, now was definitely not the time to tell Harvey anything.

* * *

In a matter of hours, it seemed like everyone wanted to be a samaritan at Harvey's expenses.

The deal for Mike.

The deal for Kevin on behalf of Mike.

The deal for Jill, on behalf of Kevin, to whom Mike owed.

Too little time and too many dangerous tricks to play behind the scenes.

But then, just when the labour had become unbearable and when the over-stressed mind was starting to fail, it was over. It ended how it started — with the same insane force and rawness.

Every piece of puzzle, even the ones that Harvey had forgotten or deemed useless, finally collided and- it was solved.

Mike was finally getting back home.

It had required an astounding teamwork, everyone had truly fed their soul to the devil, but at the end- he was _really_ coming home.

Harvey let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding for the past few months, and the wrinkles that had been creasing his forehead seemed to begin to loosen. He looked younger of ten years alone, once the anxiety had been washed over. Yeah, not carrying any weight on his shoulders definitely suited him.

Mike was happy, and Rachel was happy, but — truth to be told — the most relieved one was definitely Donna.

If she had struggled with telling Harvey about Mitchell, afraid to give another burden to worry about, she now had a way bigger problem to deal with. And nothing in the world could begin to express how grateful she was that the whole thing had come to and end, because she really needed to talk to her boss.

She still hadn't processed it, subconsciously waiting for him- for them to be free and without anything holding them back. This was a life changing news, and, wherever they stood, he had the right to know.

Though, tonight was for Rachel, and only Rachel.

Donna was going to be the one to tell her the happy news, and she would also be the one to watch her face lit up with joy. Then they would celebrate her fiancé's unexpected , yet merry, release. She had every intention of rendering it her night her forget about her problems whatsoever. Her friend needed her.

"Hey," Donna casually greeted her, nervous in anticipation next to her oblivious friend.

"Donna I'm onto something," Rachel held up her finger, "I just need one second to write this down."

The redhead patiently waited as the brunette scribbled something on her notepad. Her back was turned to her, but Donna could sense her giddiness over miles away. And she hadn't even told her about Mike yet.

"What is it? What are you so happy about?" She wondered.

"I think I just figured out a way to get Leonard Bailey's case reopened." She proudly explained.

"Rachel, that's amazing." She congratulated. "Come on, get your things. We can talk about it on the way out, because we're going to celebrate."

"No, it's good news, but I'm not ready to celebrate." Rachel waved off.

"Yes, you are. Because I'm not talking about your case." Donna announced, unable to keep on the suspense any longer. "Rachel, Harvey and Mike did it. Mike's getting out."

"What?" The younger girl frowned, still not totally ready to access the longed hope of finally hugging her fiancé.

"You heard me. They did it. Sutter's going away, which means Mike's coming home." She managed to let out, before her voice begun to break over the commotion. Hormones.

"Oh, my god." Rachel breathed, as her face crushed into a mess of happy tears.

It was a matter of seconds before Donna launched herself to the petite brunette and enveloped her, moved by deep empathy. She knew how much Rachel had suffered, and she was glad she could finally have some peace.

"Come on," she nudged, "let's go have some fun while you're still single." Donna proposed as her friend's wide eyes cracked a little for the wet laugh her joke had provoked.

Just as they were about to make their way out, Rachel's phone buzzed, "Oh wait. It's Mike." She revealed before taking the call.

And it was in that moment, as Donna took in her beloved friend over the phone with the love of her life, finally putting the armors down after the battle, ready to enjoy the glory, that she felt ready too.

At least ready to acknowledge it.

Almost imperceptibly, her fingertips slowly brushed all the way down her dark dress, only to settle just above her lower stomach. A second later, her whole hand relaxed and it splayed across her belly, or better to say — belly bump.

* * *

**Making Donna "cheat" ( and I put it between quotation marks because of obvious reasons) was a little conflicting, but at the end you have to see this as a total without malice and spontaneous move. The fact alone is useful not to create angst, but to make Donna realize her true feelings for Harvey.  
As for the pregnancy, it'll of course be a factor of change but its not the only thing I have in store for you ;)**


	3. Chapter 3

**This chapter recalls events of the ninth episode, but, of course, my own imaginary took over. The next one is going to pick up some stuff I've thrown here and there in the past. Trust me, I don't forget anything I write.**

**Hope you're enjoying the story so far, have a good reading!**

**G-**

**Chapter 3: Maybe I'm the sinner and you're the saint**

Donna Paulsen could be called a lot of things, but coward wasn't one of them.

She had always prided herself to be confident and bold, never afraid to speak her mind or tell a hard truth. She claimed that the initial shock was better than a long time of latent lies and fake happiness. Because the truth comes out anyway, sooner rather than later.

The fact that she was deflecting from telling Harvey about the baby- _their baby_ was a totally different kettle of fish. At least that's what she told herself to sleep through the night.

Donna was putting everything on hold, being the good assistant that she is, in order to be what people needed her to be. She considered it an act of magnanimity, and she was almost proud of keeping it together so well.

What she couldn't access, though, was that it was slowly killing her.

She, not only swallowed her own problems, but added downright the ones of her coworkers too. Brick by brick, she found herself carrying a load three times heavier, but she still felt too numb to acknowledge it.

Her good nature and kind heart, as well as her uncanny ability of empathy, made her more inclined to identify with people — often at the expense of resulting nosy or even hurt herself. And the latter wasn't such a heroic gesture like she thought, but more of a suicide.

She was brooding it all inside, while that rottenness grew and grew, till it was dribbling all over her life.

She was turning sour, and she couldn't even see it.

Moreover, her behavior could be bounded to her ineptitude of dealing with her own fears.

She had slowly become a master at giving everyone around her impeccable advices about their lives, but she seemed helpless when it came to her own. It was like she could fix the other's problems, but she was oblivious about herself.

She wasn't being phony. _Just because a person gives advice doesn't mean that they have to follow that same advice. It's one of the core principles outlined in "The Book of Donna", _she told it herself. So she was really being coherent — kind of.

Perhaps, the fact of knowing all too well how the world revolved, with disenchantment, was the reason she became so skeptical.

It all worked to her favor, at the end, until there was no reason to hide anymore.

Mike was getting out, the firm was beginning to see the light of the day, and she _fucking _needed to tell Harvey his heir was currently busy developing its bones inside her uterus. The fetus's fingers were also starting to ball into fists, the nostrils to open up, the lips to take shape and the eyelids to cover the eyes that were now fully formed — _not that she had spent all the night and half of her morning making researches, of course._

And, well, her inner thoughts were making her straighten the folder she previously put on Harvey's desk for about three minutes.

She brushed the blue clipboard with her maroon nails, moving it now a little to the right, now a little to the left.

All of the sudden something shifted, the air around her became rarified. Donna's stomach started to tighten up, as if her body was subconsciously responding to his arrival.

_Yeah, _their telepathic connection was starting to be slightly disturbing.

"Donna cancel all my meetings tomorrow, and notify the parole board that Gallo's ready." Harvey's baritone broke her out of her trance.

The secretary instinctively tensed up, stilling her movements, as his voice traveled down her spine, raising goosebumps. She felt an irrational feeling of exposure, like her secret was somehow displayed for everyone to see.

It was a day like any other, nothing had changed, unless you directly asked Donna. Yet, _she _felt changed, and bet anyone could sense it too. Even Harvey. Especially Harvey. The unpleasant assumption he could somehow perceive the stack of cells with his same DNA that she was carrying around was crawling her skin.

She found herself wondering if the strategical dress she had put on that morning was ultimately serving its purpose. Was the white drapery across her stomach hiding the evidence of her pregnancy? Was the cut too low that he would notice her breasts being twice as big as he had last seen them?

She was probably just making up monsters under her bed, when they were actually not even there. Then why her neck felt the weight of a big imaginary flashy sign labeled 'I'm pregnant with your child and I'm lying to you'?

"Harvey-" she said, still not facing him until he rounded his desk and came to stand on the other side of it, in front of her. Her gaze held the glass a little longer.

"I don't want to hear it." He shut her abruptly, as she tried to reconnect the dots and remember why he would do such thing.

Gallo.

Parole hearing.

Oh right, _that. _

Harvey was probably expecting her to talk him out of the decision of representing that felon. Saving him from himself, like she had always done before. Being the rational part of his mind in this kind of blurry relationship had always been her number one priority, but she was slowly starting to think it would be the only way he'd ever see her.

Donna welcomed the change of subject, though, bracing the turn of the conversation before speaking again.

"Listen to me. I was there with you when you put him away, and I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't remind you what you said about him at the time."

She wasn't coming up with it to mask her true thoughts and to divert his attention. She was truly convinced Harvey was getting himself into a dangerous place and she was not willing to let that happen. All the more now that he was about to become a father and would have to respond to another person of his actions.

"I don't need reminding." He tried to stop her impending trail of reasons why what he was about to do was wrong. And he knew it, of course he did. But he didn't have a choice, and he was already barely hanging in there. He couldn't handle Donna being disappointed in him too, because he would seriously consider dropping it all.

Every ounce of determination and blind firmness counted shit when it came to her.

"You said he was a sociopath who took pleasure from hurting people." She finished anyway.

"Donna, I don't have a choice." He pleaded.

She felt his desperation and his hesitation as a pang to her heart. But she wasn't willing to let his integrity go down. More so, now that he would have to set an example to a child.

"That was before you knew that Mike was getting out. If you just string him along for a couple more hours-" she begun to suggest.

"Mike's not getting out today." Harvey confessed, blocking her mid-sentenceZ

"What?" She breathed out, tilting her head to the side.

Now he had her full attention.

"Cahill called me. The deal's gonna take a few more days to go through. And if Gallo even thinks that I'm stringing him along, Mike may never get out of there at all." He briefly explained, and she could read on his face that the news had upset him just as much as her.

She had truly thought this nightmare was over, but apparently bad luck wasn't planning on leaving them just yet.

"I'll clear your schedule." She finally gave up.

Donna pried her lips open as a yawn forced its way out without her notice. As soon as she minded her strenuous grimace, she tried to stifle it as indiscreetly as possible, shielding her mouth with the back of hand.

She glanced at her left, taking Harvey in, glad that he seemed apparently unfazed by the proof of her boredom, that was really just exhaustion. He had been so buried under the gigantic pile of work he had to take care of, that he hadn't noticed the small changes in her attitude.

Like the fact that she wore out way earlier than she used to, or that she recoiled every time she smelled a tuna sandwich. As far as she could tell, though, her pregnancy had been an easy one. No sudden nausea, or severe pains; Nothing too major in general, just a little more tiredness stringing her along and occasional dull aches.

Harvey was busy shouting something on the phone to someone. Judging by how mad he was, it must have been either Sean Cahill or Cameron Dennis. Hard to tell, since she had shut down the intercom. It had definitely been a first — quite literally, considering that she encountered some difficulties turning it off. The device had always loyally served its purpose, being kind of her _longa manus_, or her _fly on the wall, _but she was growing to find it disturbing. The continued buzz was making her develop a headache, and she couldn't afford to be bothered by that.

Since nothing seemed to demand her attention at the moment, she opted for leaving her cubicle and found herself wandering into the office's kitchen to fetch some coffee.

Vigorously shaking the sugar's packet — because it's _never _too sweet — Donna opened it and let the white sweet snow bury the caffeine. Apparently, the notion she couldn't have it didn't exactly register in her brain just yet. The redhead stirred it a few times, before she sensed a presence in the room.

"Oh, sweet baby Jesus." Gretchen lashed out approaching the pot and getting a well deserved refill as well. "I swear that if I had a dollar for every time that man has complained today, I'd be rich enough to not have to work for him."

Donna chuckled softly, turning her head slightly to the right to the woman at her side, both facing the counter.

"Louis?" The redhead rhetorically asked.

The secretary nodded, "what do you think?"

"Well," Donna shrugged, raising the blue patterned mug to her lips, "cut him some slack. He has been dealing with Tara and the firm, and you know how he is." She came to her friend's defense, even if she knew well how maddening it could be to deal with Louis. She had been his secretary and his go-to long enough to step into Gretchen's shoes.

"If that makes you feel any better, Harvey hasn't been a piece of cake either." She added, sipping her beverage.

"We really should be payed more." Gretchen snickered, looking pointedly over the edge of her fresh Keurig brew.

So close to her nostrils, the sharp smell instantly hit, making Donna wince. She turned around and leaned against the marble. She had always loathed that pre-made, low-priced mocha, but this time the scent of it alone left her beyond shaken.

Swallowing a mouthful of her own caffeine in hopes to erase the memory of that shitty product Gretchen seemed to like so much, Donna noticed her stomach dropping the second the hot liquid kicked in.

She tried unsuccessfully another time, when, all of the sudden, the bitter taste suggested her what her mind had properly tucked out. In that exact second, she realized she shouldn't be drinking coffee at all.

The moment that information reached her brain, it sent a shock wave through her body and she reacted promptly spitting the coffee from her mouth, right to the cup of provenance.

"Ew," Gretchen recoiled at the sight, "What the hell is wrong with you, Red?" She asked, diverting her gaze to the ground.

"Nothing." She exclaimed, a little too quickly and voice a little too high-pitched. Every single thing about her attitude screamed _guilty, _and the familiar sensation of that piece of information she was so keen of keeping for herself painted across her forehead in scarlet letters returned full force.

"What you mean nothing? Your mom didn't teach you how to drink?"

_Baby brain must totally be a thing, _Donna thought. Because she couldn't think of one, _one _simple excuse to back up her behavior.

Suddenly, the room felt a hundred degrees. Heat flushed her usually rather pale cheeks.

"Hot. It was just hot. The coffee-" she stammered. "The coffee was just too hot."

"Don't bullshit a bullshitter." The older woman warned — eyes boring Donna like she could see right through her. "Come clean or I'll figure it out myself in three seconds."

She was backed into a corner, and for the first time in forever any witty repartee died on her tongue. Her poker face long lost and her bluffing skills were nowhere to be found.

Donna could sense panic flushing her skin, arousing a sense of helplessness that made her feel like she was back at age eleven. A little girl under the scrutinizing gaze of an authoritarian figure, with no experience whatsoever.

And then... she started to cry.

She felt it coming miles away: her bottom lip quivered, her eyes started to burn and her nose crunched a couple of times.

The moisture floated down her cheeks before she could even blink, and a deep sense of sadness and loneliness pressed down her chest, zeroing every chance of keeping it together.

Gretchen was left gobsmacked.

She had never seen Donna reeling, let alone crying.

"Oh, come on." She tenderly tried to soothe her. "I didn't mean to be so rude. Never thought I'd make you cry." Gretchen slid her hands up and down Donna's forearms, with that discernible motherly warmth that made her wonder how the hell was she supposed to become a mother in a few months, when she actually craved her own by her side right now.

She didn't mind the embarrassment of crying on Gretchen's shoulder too much though, the tantrum still too livid.

"I- sorry... I just-" she gasped for air, a mess of sobs and chocked words that maybe _didn't _want to get out. "can't-"

"Hey, it's ok." Gretchen almost cooed, helping Donna on one of the kitchen's chairs and letting her vent out for a few seconds.

Once she had probably no tears left to cry, she tried to somehow recompose, weeping the hot salty droplets from her eyes.

"Mind to tell me what that was all about?"

The question came from genuine concern, Donna could tell. The tone did not match the previous playful and inquisitive one, and she found herself almost wishing she could talk her problems through with the Gretchen.

Since the moment the middle aged woman arrived to the firm, she had caught Donna's interest. She may have been averse of letting her on her system at first, cause she chaired the position of Harvey's secretary, one that had been always been hers and that everyone unspokenly thought will forever be. Accepting her, would have meant letting Harvey move on, and Donna wasn't ready to do that at the time.

And who enlightened her about this had actually been Gretchen in the flesh.

She was loyal, hardworking, caring and intuitive. Donna probably liked her that much because they had so much in common.

The secretary had been the one to put her in her place and call her out of her bullshit, reminding her that maybe she could've actually known better since she had more experience.

And with the jab about the 'duck _á la_ shit' and 'I've been doing shit like this since you were an itch in your daddy's pants', she knew she had met her match.

"Yes," Donna bobbed her head up and down, "but can you take that monstrosity away first?" She asked hoarsely, nodding in the direction of the unfinished cup of coffee.

Gretchen proceeded to do as she instructed, when a thought occurred and everything suddenly made sense, "how far along?" She inquired, a knowing smile dancing on her lips.

Donna felt her heart skip a beat, "I- what?"

"Okay, if you intend on playing the fool, let me tell you your eyes look like Frisbees."

She blinked a couple of times.

"And you might want to close your mouth before a fly walks in."

She sealed her lips together annoyingly.

Gretchen waited for her to spill the beans, "basically four months." Donna murmured, looking with newfound interest at the floor. "How did you figure that out?"

"Please. It's not my first rodeo." Gretchen took a seat next to her, chuckling soundly, "But what I can't figure out is why are you so upset."

She knew she might be overstepping there, but she dared to keep going anyway, "was this not..." she tried to find the best way to put it nicely, "what you were looking for?"

"You don't have to sugarcoat it," Donna sniffled, "this just couldn't have come at a worst moment."

"Because of..."

"The firm, to begin with." Donna sighed.

"Oh please, if you tell me that you're worrying about the fact that this floor has basically become a jungle gym-"

"It's not only that." She quickly dismissed.

Gretchen tried to read her for a few seconds. There was no denying that the feisty redhead she once knew was going through something big. She felt almost protective over her now battered and distressed persona — remembering how difficult it could be to cope with all the changes, both mental and physical, that pregnancy brought and how glad she was she had her husband to help her.

She doubted Donna had a significant someone, seeming more bewildered, hazy and lonely than she'd ever been.

A thought she couldn't seem to shake was begging to be set free. Even if she was aware she could be wrong and subsequently seriously inappropriate, the woman still chose to take a wild guess and risk being sent to hell.

"Well yeah, keeping up with a little Specter growing inside of you must be one hell of a game." Gretchen quietly spoke up.

"How the hell-" Donna was dumbfounded.

_Bingo, _Gretchen silently blessed her gut.

"Seriously? I have eyes, you know." She arched a striking brow. "I have had my suspicions since the day I came to work here. But the way you throw each other these suggestive glances, how you interact these days..." she trailed off.

She'd been captured by this sort of ballet, this dance between what's allowed and what's not. Both Harvey and Donna probably had no idea of how much they left to shine through — ambiguous exchanges that made people wonder, but that the couple didn't seem mind too much, refusing to see them for what they truly were.

"It's not like that. We..." Donna paused. How could she put into words the blurred and complicated relationship she had with the man she sometimes forgot was her boss? Could she explain it to her friend when even she had trouble understanding it? "aren't- it's not that simple."

"Honey, if you think Harvey's going to be a problem, you are blinder than I thought."

Donna frowned, conveying through her puzzled face that she wasn't grabbing the meaning of the statement.

"It's clear to me that there's something here. And even if there wasn't, that man is a lot of things, but not unfair. You have always been there for him, and you'll see that he'll want to do right by you."

Donna shook her head, "it's not that. I'm not worried that he'll bail out on us, but I'm sadly aware that we can't be his priority."

Another lonely tear marked her cheek at the bitterness of her statement, but she was quick to catch it.

"I don't want to throw him off his game, now that he has more important things to do. But I'm drowning." Gretchen's heart sank at her words, and she put a hand on Donna's exposed knee to offer her some kind of human comfort. "I'm scared and alone and with no clue of what to do. I keep waiting and waiting for the right moment, but no one seems to be. And I'll probably give birth and raise his kid all by myself, and maybe, just maybe, when he's retired-"

"Ok, I'mma stop you right there." Gretchen couldn't take it anymore. "I think you have no idea how much of his life is wrapped around you and how much he cares about you. You are and will always be his number one priority, and I'll be damned if the baby you've made together isn't going to be as well."

Donna silently nodded in understatement, realizing that maybe Gretchen was right.

"But one thing is for sure," she spoke again, "you'll never find out if you don't tell him."

* * *

Rachel got out of the black Lexus pulled over in the middle of Danbury federal prison's parking lot. She gently pushed a strand of dark hair out of her face so that her eyes could find Mike's.

The tension between the couple was palpable and Harvey felt kind of awkward to be the third wheel in such a profound and touching moment between the two lovers. But they were so absorbed by the fact they were finally able to hug each other without worrying about Mike's inevitable return inside the fortress wrapped by a barbwire and with bars on the windows, that the closer didn't see any point in minding too much.

Harvey Specter wasn't a romantic.

Never been the type of guy to bring girlfriends roses and chocolates for Valentine's Day, to write a poem about his feelings — god knows it was hard for him to even acknowledge them — or to lit candles over dinner.

He had always found it all quite contrived and cloying, altering the spontaneity and good nature of the action itself. Love didn't have to be shown off like that to be real.

On that note, he still had to admit that watching Mike and Rachel's reunion affected him more than it probably should.

The young man's release had gotten a little over Harvey's control, considering that most of the latest points of the plan had been orchestrated behind his back. It was probably because Mike was aware that if he'd known, the lawyer wouldn't have probably given the green light — but the ex-fraud had been able to get himself out of prison _and _keep Frank Gallo in there as well.

It had been a ridiculously risky strategy, that had put his life in danger, one more reason to be bothered by the the unilateral decision that Mike had taken. But thinking about it, the kid managed to pull it off and spared him a choice that would have brought him to perjury and throw everything he believed in in the trash. That alone deserved a reward.

So when Rachel had told Harvey she didn't have the patience to wait home, he had decided to surprise his friend and bring her along to pick him up. Small conversation was made between the two people and the driver, but there was mostly comfortable silence filled with excitement for Mike's release.

And now, seeing him taking those hopeful and prideful steps towards his life's partner and taking her into his arms, yeah, it was moving something inside of him.

He had always admired what Mike and Rachel shared; it was the kind of love everyone aimed to, based on trust and dedication. A bond that's hard to come by and, if you do, you have to do everything in your power to keep it close.

His mind inevitably went to Donna.

She was the place he never wanted to go to, but he ended up there regardless of his will. He was eventually drawn to her, no matter what.

How he wished that he could have her next to him right now, to hoist her up and kiss her the way Mike did with Rachel. Freely.

Such an open acknowledgment of how he felt about her for her should be have him running away in the exact opposite direction.

Perhaps this time it was different.

He didn't feel ashamed of his feelings. He didn't feel the need to hide them in the deep storage of his brain where he compressed every double entendre. He didn't feel like he had to pretend he never had them.

Because, for the first time, Harvey didn't feel like those feelings made him weak, like they could kill him.

They were there, they had always been there, and he was sick of not acting on them.

Suddenly, it didn't feel scary anymore.

Donna had told him to focus on Mike and then themselves. However, Mike was finally out, and Harvey wondered if it ever occurred to Donna that one more obstacle had been crossed.

He just wished this time she'd let him stay.

He was finally ready.

* * *

**Harvey might be ready, but I'm cruel, so I'm going to tell you that some old faces will be seen again.**

**Please, please drop a review so I know you're there. I know I say it everytime but it is the fuel to tbe machine that is my brain! Thank you always!**


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm so incredibly sorry for this late update, but writing doesn't come easily to me in this period. This is my third week of quarantine and it's becoming a little frustrating, but there are so many doctors out there helping us all that I certainly can't complain! As long as we're healthy, staying at home is ok. I know that I should probably make the most of this free time, and I'm trying to do my best. **

**A special thank you to Stefanie, who has been a blessing and a perfect coach! Really, this chapter wouldn't be the same without her help.**

**Without further ado, have a nice reading!**

**G-**

**Chapter 4: You're lovin' on the psychopath sitting next to you **

He found her like he had many times before, yet this time it stirred something deep inside his gut — and his crotch, for the matter.

Donna had her vertiginous heels crossed and propped on the surface of his glass desk. Harvey's eyes roamed appreciatively over her silhouette, from her toned and milky legs that seemed to go on for miles, to her partially exposed cleavage — the deep cut of the neckline letting his imagination go wild without actually revealing too much. How was she able to pull off these kind of clothes, looking tantalizing but not vulgar, he'd never understand.

Her slender body was wrapped in an exquisite turquoise dress, the feeble light of the mid-spring sun hitting her frame from behind, giving her an ethereal glow. Her thick waves of fiery red hair blazed under the faint light, creating a deep contrast with her fair skin.

Harvey's mind got flashes of her over the years — first clad in a green dress, sporting bangs and a proud smirk, as she scribbled down something with her four-colored pen; then coated in pastel pink, scolding him about Zoey and walking him through every single trick she had pulled out of her sleeve for him that week.

She sat in the very same position, now acknowledging his presence and probably catching him ogling. The secretary smiled at her boss, shaking her head just the slightest bit and conveying the message that he was an idiot.

She looked angelic.

Harvey wondered if she had ever looked this enchanting, or if she had ever looked at him like that — with tenderness, empathy and warmth.

It was as if now that he had finally come to terms with his feelings, he was able to see her in a new light. A new pair of glasses to see the world, the push he needed to access reality.

"Sorry Miss, am I in the wrong office?" Harvey quipped, as he closed the door behind him and approached the desk.

Donna just rolled her eyes, "What did he say?" she asked at last, deliberately ignore his previous teasing.

She had been the one who found out about Daniel Hardman's filthy affair, giving Harvey the leverage Jessica needed to take over the firm. They both knew that he couldn't have reached this point in his career without her help.

Her being the gentle wind beneath his wings, pushing him toward the glory, was one of the many unspoken roles she played in Harvey's life.

"What do you think he said?" He rounded the piece of furniture and went to lean on the edge beside her thin calves. "He said yes."

An appreciative sigh came out of Donna's mouth, "Good," she nodded as the information sank in, "so Mike's coming back to the firm... everything is slowly starting to get back to normal."

The irony of the statement didn't get lost on Harvey, who felt an unpleasant stir inside his abdomen. It wasn't about Mike — he was glad the kid had accepted his offer to take a job at Pearson Specter Litt as a consultant — but about his constant hot and cold game with Donna.

They couldn't keep this charade going forever, taking two steps forward and three steps back, and he had every intention of letting her know just that.

All intentions went out of the window the minute his eyes got lost in those hazel pools of hers. A thread of gold lightened the green of her irises and - damn, had they always been these shimmery and deep?

The closeness was almost too much to handle, being this near to her but not being able to touch her properly was turning out to be harder than he thought. The urgency that moved him after years of abstinence was almost disconcerting.

How did he even go through more than a decade without looking at her like this?

He suddenly stiffened, worried that if she had always read his thoughts like an open book on a daily basis, she could bust him more easily now that he wasn't trying to keep his cards close to his chest.

Who could have told him that she was just as worried, considering that all her brain was able to articulate was an incessant and loud 'I'm pregnant with your child, I'm pregnant with your child, I'm pregnant with your child.'

Donna was the first to break the stare, clearing her throat as she said, "Alright, all's well that ends well..." she trailed off, pushing herself off the chair.

Harvey couldn't help but feel hot under his collar as the motion made their forearms brush. He had that same woman in his bed a couple of months ago, and just a little gesture like this one was making him hot and bothered — shocking.

And she was just as affected as he was, her hormones all over the place and tingling every time he was close.

"You know," Donna breathed out, "it just occurred to me that you and I don't have to think about getting the Puppy out of prison anymore."

Harvey held her purposeful gaze, and, as much as he had wanted to be the one to bring up the idea, he decided to give in and be game. He was just happy she appeared to be on the same page.

"Yeah," he breathed out as well, cocky grin taking over his lips, "that didn't just occur to you."

Memories of the other time, her in her mid-twenties hiding a can of whipped cream behind her back and saying these exact same words, flew back to her mind.

"So... maybe you could come over to my place tomorrow night," she proposed almost casually, but anxiousness and fear of rejection were seeping under her skin, "to celebrate."

"Miss Paulsen, are you already inviting me over to your place? Wouldn't a gentleman have to ask you on a date first?"

Her playful and almost smug expression was quickly replaced by a serious one, and he wondered if maybe he had pushed too much. Joking was one thing, but maybe he had gone too far with all the innuendos and suggestive repartees.

"I need to talk to you about something important," she said sorely. "And then, I think I don't need to remind you that we've plentifully established you're not a gentleman."

Her expression turned soft and Harvey could finally breathe again.

"Okay, then."

"Okay."

She took another minute or two before she smirked and made her way out of his office, giving her hips an extra sway.

_This woman is going to be the death of me_, Harvey smirked to himself.

* * *

Donna spent her lunch break with Rachel. They settled for a small cafe, pretty casual, but one that her foodie friend seemed to enjoy particularly. They made small talk about their day so far, and exchanged the latest gossip, digging their forks in their Ceasar salads. Donna deliberately omitted her own news, not feeling like letting Rachel in on the pregnancy yet. She just craved some quality time with her friend while not having to think about births, talking to her baby daddy or filing motions for at least an hour.

After what turned out to be less than an hour, they made their way back to Pearson Specter Litt, where Donna got an unexpected call from her OBGYN's office.

Doctor White's secretary had managed to fit her in for a late-evening appointment that day, just before closure. The employee was almost embarrassed by the very short notice, but Donna knew she was lucky to be squeezed in at all. There had been a glitch that had messed up with the doctor's calendar, and now the only times available were tonight or in two weeks. And she was already four months late.

Indeed, Donna decided to confirm and go by herself.

It's not that she wanted to go alone — Harvey was the father and had every right to see his baby and be updated about its development. But the uncertainty about the conditions of the fetus itself made her hesitate: she had absolutely no idea what to expect. First, she needed to make sure that everything was alright; that way she wouldn't have to get his hopes up and then let him down if something was actually wrong.

Plus, she couldn't fathom the thought of breaking the news of her pregnancy and asking Harvey to accompany her to the first sonogram on the same day. One step at a time.

No matter how adamant she was about having made up her mind, as soon as she sat down in the waiting room of her OBGYN's, Donna felt a wave of panic taking over. Two couples were there, the first woman was about six or seven months along — if she had to take a guess — and the second had a belly so huge it seemed like it could burst any minute. The thought of herself in the same state in just a few months took her breath away.

But the anxiety she was experiencing soon got replaced by an overwhelming sense of grief. The soon-to-be mothers were both the sole object of attention of their partners, who considerately rubbed their rounded midsections, whispered how much they loved them and how excited they were about the imminent arrival of their children.

A hot tear escaped her left eye, and while she didn't give a shit about her vulnerability since no one seemed interested in her, she did feel bad about experiencing one the these many 'firsts' alone. Her judgment was all over the place, and she had truly thought that going alone was the best idea at the moment.

After about thirty minutes, Donna was called in, so she carried herself into the examination room on wobbly legs and with a stomach tied in knots. The level of nervousness matched without a doubt her first visit to get vaccinated when she was just a toddler, and it has to be said that Donna remembered it as one of the scariest experiences of her life.

The doctor had been surprised when the redhead had told her that she got pregnant. They hadn't discussed the possibility of motherhood, and the fact that she managed to conceive without trying was rare at her age. She had asked the same protocol questions, and as much as Donna had this irrepressible desire to bury her head into the sand every time they touched the subject of the unplanned nature of her condition, she got completely blindsided when Doctor White had called her an "Elderly Primipara."

"A- what?" Donna shot her neck up from her current lying position on the exam table, utterly disgusted by the definition.

"An elderly primipara," the doctor said never tearing her eyes from the screen, coaxing Donna to get comfortable again with a gentle nudge, "a woman who has her first baby after the age of 35," she explained further.

Donna's frown only deepened as she pushed up on her elbows once again, before Dr. White eventually scolded her, "Donna, I'm going to need you to stay still to get a decent ultrasound."

She did as instructed, expelling a long breath and trying to calm her nerves. A pretty difficult task considering how restless she felt.

"A little tense, are we?" Dr. White teased subtly, shifting her gaze to Donna for a just a second, before moving the doppler a little more to the right and applying pressure there.

Donna winced, "Just do your job, Heather, and try to not miss a third foot," she teased.

The two women had been friends for several years. Donna had just started her brief off-broadway career when she had met the lively blonde, and they had clicked and bonded almost instantly. Heather had been there when Donna made a name for herself in the secretarial pool and the corporate law world, and Donna had helped her out during the long yet rewarding period that brought Heather to get her degree in gynecology.

"Well, I definitely see something here, but it's definitely not a third foot!" She smiled down at her patient. "The baby is in a very convenient position. I can tell you the sex, if you want."

"No!" Donna jumped. She had already taken so much away from Harvey, that she felt like finding out whether it was a boy or a girl was a moment she was supposed to share with him. "I wanna wait."

"Are you sure?" Heather threw her a skeptical look, knowing that her friend was a control freak and had betted she would have wanted to know something like this. "That way you can start looking for names, or plan a theme for the nursery like I did with Phoebe."

The last thing on Donna's mind was baby names right now. And a theme? She didn't even know she was supposed to pick one. She found herself ultimately regretting her decision and wishing Harvey was with her, holding her now empty and cold hand.

"No, thanks." She blinked. "Maybe next time, if I manage to bring along the baby's father without having him pass out."

Heather threw her a look, a look that made her feel like she could tell she was referring to Harvey. She didn't know how, she just felt it. Heather didn't question it further, though, instead, she proceeded to turn up the sound of the heartbeat.

A foreign whoosh-whoosh filled the otherwise silent room, and the screen was turned for Donna to see the baby. It was the very first time, yet, it was something she could get used to. The fact that she could discern a rather clear image of the body — even if it was almost all head — made her realize how much time she had lost without figuring out she was pregnant because there it was - a baby. The information sank in Donna's head for the very first time, leaving her in awe, but strangely calm and collected as well.

After taking a few measurements, establishing her due date, and snapping a couple of pictures, Donna was ready to make her way out of Doctor White's office. Her friend enveloped her in a loving hug, congratulated once again, and made her promise to not be a stranger anymore.

"Tell Peter and Phoebe I said hi, but maybe don't jump at the first chance to say she's going to have someone to play with in the next few months," Donna said, grabbing her purse and noticing with displeasure that her silky top had been smeared with some of the gel that had been splayed across her belly.

"Will do. And Donna," Heather asked for her friend's attention before she got out the door, "call for anything you need, and not just an appointment."

The redhead heard her loud and clear, but the only thought that was bugging her head was the little sonogram of her unborn son or daughter, and telling the man who helped to create it about its existence the following evening.

* * *

Donna was positively beaming the next day. The light cramping she had been experiencing during the past week was almost gone, the decaf coffee she had that morning was actually starting to be drinkable and she was leaving the office early to get tickets for a play she was dying to see.

Her break was supposed to be in a couple of minutes and she made good with the paperwork she was handling for Harvey as well, so he had encouraged her to go ahead.

The place they were currently in was... good. They still hadn't discussed anything important though. Harvey was fully convinced he had to worry about an overdue conversation regarding their blurry lines, oblivious that it would be overshadowed by her own confession. But what they didn't know couldn't hurt them, and so far they were doing good.

Donna was coping with the stress of hiding her pregnancy relatively well, but just because she was really looking forward to coming clean that night. She knew that the decision of keeping Harvey in the dark until now had been ultimately hers, but no matter how it turned out, she was just glad she didn't have to hide anymore.

Feeling butterflies in her stomach whenever he was around was not an unusual thing, but she had started noticing literal fluttering in her lower abdomen as well. It had caught her off guard, leaving her feeling weird and excited and amazed, and she just really wanted to share that with Harvey. The sonogram was burning a hole in the inner pocket of her navy dress, and she swore she could feel the heaviness of it.

The elevator reached the ground floor with a ding. It held about six people on the inside — Donna included — most of them being clients and attorneys in their fine five hundred dollars suits.

The woman couldn't help but notice that every single one of them didn't show any intention of leaving work-mode, spiraling in the hustle and bustle of their demanding jobs. She had seen it in Harvey — how the all-consuming and frantic world of business could make you lose touch with the real world around you.

It was the main reason that made her doubt his involvement in the baby's life.

She wondered if the fast pace of their realities could make room for a child that would inevitably need all of their time and dedication. As far as Donna was concerned, she was sadly aware that she wouldn't be able to give one hundred percent at work and to a baby, and she was slowly accepting that. If one thing had to be cut back, it would never be her own kid.

Tapping their heels to the floor with unnerving urgency, as soon as the doors opened, the five men rushed out of the lift, occasionally shoving her in the process.

"Donna!" She was lovely called by a familiar voice in the process.

Only once the elevator was empty, she stepped out of it to see her colleague on the 46th floor, Paul Porter's secretary, holding a stack of papers and a pen between her fingertips.

"Melanie!" She greeted with faux excitement, a forced smile plastered on her face that didn't quite reach her eyes. No one had ever seen so many of Donna's teeth — except probably her dentist— and the redhead believed her acting skills weren't pulling it off. They weren't enough to cover the surprise of catching the assistant after so many weeks without even running into her.

There was nothing majorly wrong about Melanie, but the short brunette had definitely too much tongue and too little brain.

Melanie wasn't mean, but, during the only few times they had chatted over coffee, she hadn't been able to bring up anything of substance. The conversation had reached its highest topics with the plastic surgery she claimed she had to take for her 'broken' nose, and with how her ex-husband wouldn't let her take the house in the Hamptons.

She had even asked Donna for Harvey's help at the time, wanting him to represent her. Donna had told her that divorce wasn't Harvey's field, but somehow that information didn't seem to register. She had, once or twice, even tried to bring up the topic of 'sex with your boss' and how the hell it was possible that the couple had never done that. In that moment Donna had never felt more pitiful for anyone.

Donna wasn't one into stereotypes, but that woman ticked all the boxes.

It wouldn't be hard to wonder if Gina Kirschenheiter's spirit had taken upon her small frame because there were just too many resemblances. But real housewives or not, the woman pulled it off with Paul Porter every single day, and he had yet to get stabbed, so she guessed that was remarkable.

"It's so good to see you! How have things been? I heard what happened with Mike... it was all over the newspapers." Melanie mentioned, politely taking upon what she thought was a tea conversation, but was really a strong margarita one.

"Oh," Donna bit her tongue, putting it as impassive as she could to not trigger Melanie's curiosity, "we're slowly finding our feet again. You'll see." She promised with a sincere smile.

An awkward silence followed, and the short brunette assistant's eyes began to wander around, clearly trying to get a cue to end the small rendezvous.

She took a breath, "Very well- no," she cut her farewell short once she noticed a man taking the only available elevator, "please, hold it! I'm going up, too."

Donna was utterly relieved at hearing those words.

"We need to catch up over dinner sometime." Melanie squeezed Donna's arm with affection, before joining the stranger into the elevator.

"I'll call you as soon as things get a little less crazy." Donna lied, waving at her as the man inside hurried in raising his hoodie.

The move couldn't help but catch Donna's attention.

It was strange enough that anyone in a law firm would wear a hooded sweatshirt, but his entire presence — everything from his shoes to his posture — screamed that he didn't belong there. She seriously doubted he was about to attend a meeting, and he most certainly didn't work there.

And there had been this... thing, this recoil at her presence. He had physically raised a barrier between them — preventing her to make up any feature of his face — and that alone couldn't have been random. It wasn't a coincidence: he hadn't expected to run into her, and he didn't want to be recognized.

Before Donna could read too much into it though, the doors closed, putting the ultimate distance between them and eventually hampering every chance she could have had to dig further.

For a moment or two, Donna felt this strange need of not leaving the building. Some magnetic force was keeping her there, waiting, like something was going to happen and she couldn't miss it. And as much as that force was invisible, it was very much present. Her gut was basically screaming at her, prevailing on the rational part of her brain.

Donna shook her head — figuratively and literally — and forced herself out of the door and off to get the already paid tickets.

The familiar, yet undistinguishable, sense of coldness and apprehension pressing on her chest, though, didn't cease.

* * *

Melanie slowly trailed her eyes from top to the bottom of the document she was holding. Checking that everything was in order and the signatures right where they were supposed to, she slowly pushed on her feet to stretch and relieve some tension. She wasn't twenty anymore, her toes and back were aching, and she couldn't wait to call it a day in a few hours. She just looked forward to going out for some drinks with her girlfriends and enjoy the mundanity of New York City by night.

She briefly glanced to her left, eyeing the man whose stare she could sense on her skin.

Clad in a cheap monochromatic sweatshirt and jeans, the signs of a five o'clock shadow — he definitely wasn't her type.

Her eyes went back to the numbers flashing above her head, signaling they were just a few floors away from-

"Shh," she felt the sound breathed against her ear, as two strong arms take a hold of her, "don't put up a fight." The husky voice demanded, but she instinctively jerked away, squirming in a futile attempt of breaking free.

That was until a hand came up to muffle her scared cries and the barrel of a gun was pressed against her side. Her body instantly froze with terror, afraid that if she made another move, it would be her last.

"Now, listen to me," the man spoke, "you weren't exactly my target, so there's no reason for you to worry if you follow my orders, got that?" he said, in a threatening tone that did nothing to back up what he just promised.

He could feel her swallow hard against the palm of his hand, and her head bobbing up and down frantically, in a sign of agreement.

Feeling like he had her, he opened his mouth again, "you and I are going to have a lot of fun together."

Melanie let out a whimper.

"Because I need to get some things done around here, and you can be very helpful, starting by taking me around for a little tour of the Pearson Specter Litt offices. I think there's no need to point out what happens in case you try anything stupid, is there?" The gun was pressed against her flesh to consolidate the concept.

The doors opened to the 46th floor, where Frank Gallo would begin his march of terror, leaving a trail of dead bodies right up the 50th floor, home to his number one target.

* * *

**You must be hating me now, but there nothing wrong with a little bit of suspense! Please, tell me what you think. I can't wait to hear all your theories! **


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi there, let's start my fourth (crying endlessly) week of quarantine with an update.**

**I've had to make a few adjustments to the storyline, to make my actual story work: Louis and Tara are not together anymore, Rachel and Jessica have already won Leonard Bailey's case and Mike has accepted the job as a consultant, waiting to get into the Bar.  
**

**Thank you for your support, reading your reviews is the best part of it all, keep them coming!**

**Last but not least, the biggest thank you to Stefanie for being there and helping me with her encouraging words.**

**G-**

**Chapter 5: In the crosshairs**

When the worst day of your life comes, you never know that it will be the worst.

When you live your last peaceful moment before all hell breaks loose, you never know that it will be the last.

When it all changes, you never know that it will change.

Until it happens.

And when it does happen, it's too late.

You wonder why: Why did it have to happen to you?

You wonder how: How could you have prevented them?

You wonder what: What do you do to keep yourself safe?

You wonder who: Who will be lucky enough to get to tell this story?

These are the most common things that go through a man's head when an emergency situation occurs.

It's reflex, it's science, it's statistics. It's something you can't argue with. It's a response mechanism, one that pertains every human brain.

Almost, every human brain.

Because when it happens in the place you have always felt safest at, right before your eyes, with the people you love at stake and no possibility to escape, it all sums up to one thing.

Who will make the ultimate sacrifice.

* * *

The firm used to be home.

Home: noun, "the place where you live".

Under that aspect many people could have agreed with that definition. Pearson Specter Litt had always been the place hundreds of people, lawyers, associates and assistants, have spent the greatest part of their twenty-four hours of the day.

Being part of the team meant busting your ass off day and night, giving every ounce of blood and sweat you've got left, and investing all of your energies and focus.

It also meant being available whenever you're needed, answering every call. It didn't matter if it was 1 p.m. or 1 a.m., the law didn't know any hour. So eating and occasionally spending the night at the firm came as a natural next step, almost out of convenience.

But the truth was that the firm was so much more than that.

Most people considered their offices a way station, preferring their comfortable couch or the intimacy of their own bedroom. Glass walls and dark furniture didn't provide a relaxing place, didn't exude a positive vibe, and many employees just waited for the day to end to finally go home.

But for Jessica Pearson, this was home, in every sense of the word.

For starters, this was the place she had helped build with her own hands from the ground — since she took the scraps of what Gordon, Schmidt and Van Dyke used to be and gave it a new form. She had managed to erect this empire brick by brick, challenge by challenge, sacrifice by sacrifice, almost all by herself.

And as much as she felt incredibly proud of it — almost braggingly, but again, it's not bragging if it's true — the people who inhabited that dreamland were the ones that made it home.

Because they were family.

Not the kind that falls into your lap, that you're forced to coexist with and hope to see just once a year, but the kind that you choose to love. Even if it's hard, even if you don't really know how to, you simply do it. Because these people, who have apparently nothing to do with you directly, are the ones you care about the most.

They were the soul and the beating heart of the institution; they, with their voices, their presence, the senior partners with their confident strides, the newbie associates with their hesitant first steps. Without them, the place would be aseptic — a regular office with empty desks, black screens, and silent phones.

Not that they hadn't had their fair share of conflicts, but after all this time, here they were: still standing. Maybe all the heartaches left them a little bit limping, but certainly more united than ever.

Harvey, Mike, Rachel, Donna, Jessica, god - even Louis, all of them had been each other's safe place. A cozy, dwelling and warm refuge to hold onto the memories of what they were, and the promises of what they would become. They had been there when everybody else left.

So yes, the firm was home to that little — a little dysfunctional, if you asked — family.

At least, it had been home.

It had until the moment it became a battlefield.

And yet, they still didn't know.

There was a psychopath, shooting at everyone who came into his sight — only to warm up — just a few floors below them. Blood was leaving a trail up to the Pearson Specter Litt offices. They were going to be shocked to their very core — most of them would never entirely recover from the experience.

And yet, they still didn't know.

Everyone was living that day like it was any other.

Louis had planted his roots in the kitchen, as he religiously did every day just before lunch. Nursing himself a generous glass of prunie, he sat down glancing around the corner at the associates working in the library. He took great pleasure watching his 'children' doing as he instructed — the new generation morphing into the lawyers of tomorrow under his expert guidance. He licked his lips after the first sip, welcoming the slightly bitter taste of the fruit.

Mike was living his second first-day at the firm, this time as a consultant. He had already agreed to try and get his license back; but again, he never really had one. Anyway, this time he wanted to get into the bar, following all the legal procedures, and he was already working with Harvey to obtain a hearing in front of the Character and Fitness Committee. Until then, he settled for being basically a lawyer, even if the plaque on his door said otherwise. He made a pit-stop at Rachel's office first, stealing a kiss from his brilliant fiancée and hoping to not find her too busy.

Rachel gladly welcomed Mike's visit. She watched as he settled on the edge of her desk, enjoying the feeling of getting back to their old habits, and walking him through everything he had missed. She told him about Louis and his new crazy adventures, their newest 'roommates', and somehow she got caught up talking about the success with her death row case. She had been adamant about not letting the victory get over her head, but Mike had always been her biggest fan, and it was easy to loose her good intentions when all he wanted was to celebrate.

Harvey hadn't been able to see anything beyond the tons of emails that had been accumulating in his inbox. Getting Mike out of jail had been his only focus, and now he was trying to persuade the committee into admitting him to the Bar. Jessica had gone ballistic, her outburst making perfectly clear that she wasn't appreciating his inability of handling both his superhero complex and his normal duties. So, in order to keep her quiet and gaining back her trust, he had promised to get a move on with the consistent pile of motions he had left behind. His eyes, though, couldn't help but flicker to the empty chair at Donna's cubicle, longing for his redhead.

* * *

"Jessica," someone called her hesitantly, the managing partner's name coming out cracked, to say the least. It was just above a whisper, like it had been forced out.

A cry, a pray, a warning.

Jessica sensed it instantly — that familiar anxiety building in the pit of her stomach, a feeling of uneasiness clouding her emotions. The way she had been addressed didn't mean anything good. She could tell. She could feel it deep within her.

But she had been elbows deep in all the paperwork it had to be handled to finally put Leonard Bailey's chapter behind her, and she couldn't be bothered by anything else. Especially so if it wasn't good news.

"It will have to wait," she announced, never once tearing her eyes from her computer, turning a page of the document on her desk at the same time. An absentminded gesture, considering she was doing her best to not look up. Her brain was purposely avoiding to bring her eyes to her counterpart, like she was subconsciously already aware that she was going to be blown away by the view.

"Jessica." It came a second time. This one was more adamant, sure and almost devoid of any quivering.

She recognized the voice — male, a marked accent, sharp and husky. Not Harvey, definitely not Louis. It had been familiar, yet she wasn't totally used to the strong tone.

Stu Buzzini.

Jessica lifted her eyes from the screen for a fraction of second, then back to the device. She caught up with the image a little later, but when her brain had registered what she had actually seen, the oddity of it urged her to raise her gaze again. This time it settled steadily on the bloodstained figure of Stu.

She cringed at the sight and couldn't help but blink a few times, maybe hopeful that the horrible view would go away. It didn't.

Stu stood on the threshold of the door, keeping it open with the dead weight of his beaten body. He had one foot inside and the other one outside — just like he seemed standing between life and death. Little did Jessica knew that the damage was more psychological than physical.

"Stu, what happened?" Jessica stood up way too quickly and approached the trader, almost shoving her chair in the process. She was almost afraid to touch him, like if she dared to do it he would definitely break. Though, she could see right through the creases of his soul how broken he already was. She wasn't sure if he was aware of it, but he was displaying the classical signs of PTSD, his breath labored and his body shaking.

"I- I don't know what the procedure is here, but- but," he kept stammering and Jessica was afraid he would collapse before he was able to finish the sentence.

"What are you talking about?" she whispered gently.

He didn't seem to hear her. "You may want to know that a man with a gun opened fire in the bullpen."

* * *

"Hello, my dear. What a beautiful day it is today!" Mike greeted full of energy, pushing the door open and waltzing into Harvey's office.

The lawyer raised his head from the piles of paperwork that were covering every possible inch of his desk. Taking a mental note to ask Donna for help sorting that out, he threw the young man a dirty look.

"What?" Mike questioned. "Already moody? It's not even 3 p.m., Harvey!" he humored, throwing his boss a faux disapproving look and making himself comfortable on one of the leather chairs. He adjusted the knot of his tie, and then placed his hands on his lap, waiting for Harvey to speak up.

"Has your voice always been this loud?" Harvey complained. With a grimace, he raised his hand to cover his ear purposefully.

Mike knew his extreme cheerfulness may not be appreciated by everybody, especially in the middle of a working day. But you couldn't exactly blame the man for trying to lighten up the mood, since all he had been doing in Danbury was mainly avoiding death threats and bickering with other inmates.

"Oh, come on. I know you missed my morning greetings," he pressed with a wink.

If there was one thing that Mike had learned from his years at whatever name the firm currently had — he couldn't keep track of how many times it had changed — was that Harvey Specter, who claimed to be the toughest closer in Manhattan, actually had a soft spot for him. Not that Mike didn't feel the same way about him, but while he had no problem admitting his admiration for the man, Harvey had always been more stoic.

"You've been back for maybe five hours and you're already the biggest pain in the ass," Harvey pointed out, but glancing at Mike the way that meant he was deep down glad to have him there again.

"That is one of my many qualities." Mike smiled proudly.

Harvey rolled his eyes, pretending to get back to the boring motions he had to file for one of his oldest clients. It would be a matter of seconds before Mike brought up something else, he would pretend to be bothered by it, and then 'defiantly' accept that he wouldn't get anything done any time soon.

Before he knew it though, Harvey felt the irrepressible need to let out a yawn.

Mike snickered, "Did you miss your beauty sleep? Funny because it seemed like you got here at least an hour and a half late today."

"Not that it's any of your business, but I actually missed precious hours of sleep because I'm too busy trying to make you a real lawyer. You know, having a degree and what not."

Mike simply raised his eyebrow at the statement. He was aware of everything Harvey had done for him these past couple of months, and he will be eternally grateful for this new chance at life. Although that didn't mean he couldn't tease his friend a little bit.

"That joke is almost as old as you."

"Very funny." Harvey chuckled unhumorously. "I'm actually pretty sick of babysitting you. I don't have kids, yet I always have my hands full with your shit." He said, pushing himself up and buttoning his grey vest, ultimately giving up his obligations.

He had no idea how wrong he was about that.

"Funny, cause you are actually old enough to be my dad," Mike noted, following him outside of his office. He didn't really know where they were headed — not that he thought Harvey did or that he actually cared — he was just happy to stroll down the halls of the firm again.

"Alright," Harvey abruptly stopped in his tracks, lifting his right arm and halting Mike as well, "these jokes about my age are as old as dirt, you may want to reconsider going down that road."

Mike went to open his mouth, but he soon realized it was better not to respond, judging by Harvey's burning gaze. "And don't even try to use the 'old as dirt' against me," he warned.

Mike tilted his head to the side, "Oh, like you've never repeated jokes before."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Harvey shrugged, feigning ignorance.

"Yes, you do. You have to integrate new lines, I've been wanting to say that for weeks. But again, I was too busy going to prison for you."

"I liked you better when you were in Danbury, now that you mention it," he stated, earning an affectionate, rather than amused, smile from Mike. He knew that Harvey was not exactly the sentimental type, but he guessed that was his way of saying 'welcome back'.

* * *

"For Doctor Lipschitz: dominating your life after the tough breakup with Tara leaves you with a sense of peace and accomplishment. P.S. remind Gretchen to buy some flowers to thank him," Louis recorded into his dictaphone, walking down the hall. "And not the cheap daisies she always gets. He's not getting baptized." He added.

The man paused and laughed to himself.

"Actually, that was a good one. You're on fire today," he complimented himself, nodding in a sign of approval "Keep this in mind to prep yourself for the next Tinder match."

Online dating was probably the best idea of the millennium, Louis contemplated.

Choosing to let Tara go after she had told him she was pregnant with Joshua's baby had been one of the most altruistic things he had ever done. If he had to be honest, he was actually pretty proud of himself. Of course, that didn't make the recovering after the heartache any easier.

Doctor Lipschitz had been the greatest help so far, guiding him through his issues and letting him slowly heal. Meanwhile, his phone kept buzzing every time his dating profile had a match, and Louis welcomed the distraction with open arms. Getting to filter the research of the future Mrs. Litt definitely gave some insurance.

"Asking Jessica to supply only _You just got Litt up _mugs." Louis pressed the button to switch the device on again, resuming his walk, "But maybe start with that and confess you've broken the blender after." He took one last note, pausing just outside the managing partner's office.

He gave himself a once-over. Smoothing down the creases of his jacket and then being satisfied with the result, he mustered up the courage to gently push the door open.

He held his breath, well aware that Jessica would kill him once he told her about the mess in the kitchen. "Jessica, do you have a minute?" He acknowledged her, completely ignoring Stu's somber presence on the couch.

The woman had her back to him, rummaging through a stack of dusty papers with one hand and keeping her phone close with the other. Louis couldn't see her face, but she was visibly shaking, flipping the pages with clear urgency.

Maybe that wasn't a good time, after all.

"Not now, Louis." She briefly turned around, but he could still make out her features scarred by worry and her labored breathing.

"Is there something that I can help you with?" he proposed, glancing around the room and noticing for the first time they weren't alone.

"Stu! Sorry, didn't see you-" he stopped mid-sentence since his jaw dropped, almost hitting the floor.

His eyes roamed with macabre curiosity over his blood-soaked body. His brain was telling him to look away, utterly disgusted by the state he was in, but there was some magnetic force that kept his eyes on his body.

"Oh my- you- what-" he stammered a couple of times, "are you hurt?"

Stu imperceptibly shook his head, still too traumatized by the latest experience. He said, "No, this..." he took a big breath, "isn't my blood."

His eyes watered at the statement, and it was clear to Louis that something huge was obviously going on.

"Stu," Louis said more steadily, "what happened?"

The broker swallowed hard. The cruelty of the previous events and the shock about the near-death experience were obviously still too vivid. "I was just working in the bullpen. Out of nowhere, we heard gunshots. Everyone started panicking, people were screaming and running everywhere. I didn't know what to do so I- I hid under a desk, but my colleagues..."

Louis understood from the way his lip quivered that the sentence wasn't holding anything positive. The story didn't have a good ending.

He nodded, "Any survivors?"

Stu shook his head, slightly sniffing. "Don't think so. I tried to help as much as I could but..." he had to pause.

It was like reliving it all again. He could still hear the ringing in his ears after the gunshots, the fear making his skin tingle, the unwavering sense of nausea.

"Many tried to take the emergency way out but he- he shot them on sight. I don't think anyone has made it safely," he let out.

Louis felt a wave of emotions rushing through him. He was just processing the shock of having heard the whole story, and now... a thought occurred to him. The killer was still on the loose. In the firm. On this very floor. His head spun fiercely as the reality of the danger they were in finally sank.

"Fuck!" Jessica's cursing stole their attention, "no there's nothing here."

She slammed her fist onto the table and closed the envelope of emergency procedures with so much force it could break the glass desk.

"I don't know. How am I supposed to know? You're the experts!" She yelled at the officer on the other line. "Alright, yes I heard you loud and clear," she said after a couple of seconds, before handing the phone to Stu. She claimed the police wanted him to describe the shooter.

As soon as she was dismissed from the call, Jessica took her head into her hands and collapsed onto the couch. An exasperated sigh escaped her and, as much as Louis was sorry to have her thrown into the chaos again, he needed to know, "Jessica, what do you think you're doing? We have to get out right now!"

"No, Louis we don't," she said raising her head to offer him a tired look.

"I don't think you understand. There's still someone with a goddamn loaded gun walking around the floor! We can't just stay here doing nothing!" he reasoned, increasingly raising his voice as his own words made it all more real.

"But we are. We are waiting."

"Waiting for what?" Harvey suddenly questioned, making his way into the office, Mike in tow. "Why are you all here, is someone throwing a party?" he joked, clearly oblivious of what was really going on.

"You haven't heard?" Louis spoke, "We are waiting for a psychopath to kill us all."

Mike's eyes were now wide open, mirroring his shock "What?" he asked, blinking a few times.

As if on cue, Stu hung up the call and turned around to face the others, providing a very tangible proof of the reality of the statement.

Harvey recoiled at the sight, his stomach turning unpleasantly as his nostrils were hit by the bitter smell of dry blood.

"Jessica." Mike seemed to demand an answer by the way he said her name.

"Look, I spoke with the police. The SWAT team is on its way, but there's a protocol to follow," she explained.

"What kind of protocol? The one that makes us all die prematurely?" Louis started pacing around the room.

Harvey rolled his eyes at his friend's antics. He was this close to losing it as well, and he didn't need anyone to fuel his anxiety. Someone needed to stay functioning, and Jessica obviously could use a hand.

"They have to get us all out safely. We can't start running away and breed chaos. We have to stay in our offices and wait for them to clear all the floors involved, to make sure they catch the shooter," she said poignantly.

"Floors?" Mike asked between gritted teeth.

"Apparently it started on the 46th."

Louis scoffed, "Great! So now they have to go through four goddamn floors before getting to us!"

"Louis..."

"No, right. We can always hide," he said mockingly. "Too bad everything here is made of fucking glass! We're basically served on a silver plate. At this point let's go find the man and ask him how he would like to kill us!"

"Enough!" Jessica shouted, and everyone's eyes closed around her. "This is what they told us to do, so it's supposed to be the safest option. Do you have any other suggestions? Tell me, Louis, do you have any experience with terrorist attacks?"

She had slowly taken a few steps towards Louis' short figure and was now towering over him. "Answer my question! Do you have any experience with terrorist attacks?" she asked once again, but it sounded more like a threat.

"No," he murmured under his breath, looking at his shoes and with a sheepish expression across his face.

"So, we follow their orders and have faith that this nightmare will soon be over," Jessica concluded, dropping her shoulders.

"Actually," Stu spoke for the first time, "it wasn't a terrorist. The shooter kept asking where he could find somebody."

"Who?"

Stu's eyes left the ground and settled on Harvey. The lawyer felt everyone's gaze burning his skin, and the air suddenly left his lungs. The world was spiraling, closing around him and taking him under. No, it couldn't-

"Harvey." Stu said at last, "The gunman is looking for Harvey."

His mouth instantly dried as he slowly realized they were all in danger and many people had been killed because of a personal vendetta.

Harvey took a quick glance at Mike, who was staring blankly into space. He gently nudged Mike's shoulder, who, after looking up, announced, "I'm going to get Rachel."

"Are you stupid? Didn't you hear what Jessica just said?" Louis pointed out.

"I did, and at the risk of being shot, I'm going to get the love of my life."

Harvey's heart made its way up his throat as he realized something. The unfortunately familiar wave of panic washed over him. He didn't understand how his mind hadn't gone there sooner.

"What?" Jessica instantly noticed the change in his behavior. Hearing an armed psychopath was planning on killing him hadn't affected him as much as what had just occurred to him.

"Donna," he choked out, "Donna- I have to call her. She's been out for her lunch break and I have to make sure she doesn't come back here."

The others shared a knowing glare. Truth to be told, lunch hour had been over for about fifteen minutes, and Donna would have already gotten back. They were sure she had, but if Harvey hadn't gotten ahold of her...

Harvey's trembling hand pulled his phone out of his pocket. The sweaty digits pressed on the numbers he knew by heart and then moved the device closer to his ear. His foot kept drumming on the floor. One ring, two rings, three rings.

He waited, then tried again.

Nothing.

"So?" Louis asked.

"She's not answering."

* * *

**Soο, betting is officially open! What do you think happened to Donna? Where is she? With this chapter we're finally getting into the real story, it's going to be one hell of a ride!**

**Forgive me if I take some liberty with the SWAT procedures, I have made some research and I'm trying to be as consistent as possible, but I'm most certainly not a cop. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi friends, **

**hope to delight your afternoon (or day, or night; I wouldn't know since here its 2 p.m.) with a new chapter. Let me tell you that balancing the story as we enter the real deal is becoming difficult, but that's a challenge I accept with open arms.**** I'm overwhelmed by your response, thank you! ****  
**

**Plus, I've got Stefanie, who's an amazing beta! Thank you so much, always. **

**During this certainly strange Easter I hope to write more and update quicker. Please stay safe and at home! (It sucks, and I've been in quarantine for over a month, but it's what has to be done.)**

**G-**

**Chapter 6: Where does the good go?**

"This doesn't make any sense," Mike thought aloud.

Since Stu had delivered the shocking news that it wasn't just some aimless attack to a random place, but a well planned vendetta against one of them, the group had started speculating on who would want to hurt Harvey.

"I mean, you're a lawyer, making people to pay for their mistakes is your job... but wanting to kill you? Shooting you point-blank? Who would be capable of something like this?"

"Right," Harvey raised his eyes just for a split of a second, before bringing his attention back to the phone in his hands, "do I need to make a list?"

"Harvey, you shouldn't underestimate the situation. While you laugh here, people have been killed," Stu replied, clear bitterness laced with his tone. The reaction surprised him as well because he knew that Harvey's comment had been purely wry and absolutely without malice. All of that though, couldn't do anything to smooth over this unconscious sense of resentment — resentment for what had happened to his friends and colleagues.

Harvey felt ashamed of himself the second Stu's words came out of his mouth. It was neither the place, nor the time, to throw jokes around, and he had to face the fact that it wasn't a situation where he could be allowed to be funny.

Thinking about it, Stu had been a true gentleman, far too good, choosing to overlook the fact that the murders were only bumps in the road to get to Harvey. It was a matter of grace that he was still alive, and he had to start acting on that.

"Sorry, Stu." He threw the man a sincere apologetic look. "You're right."

That was enough for Stu to let it go. It was already water under the bridge, and besides, they were in the same boat now and they had to start working like a real team to get out of there alive.

"Tell us." Harvey focused his attention sorely on him, but still clutching the phone tightly in his left hand. Maybe he was hoping it would somehow make Donna pick up. "Did he tell you who he was? What did he look like?"

"Well, he didn't tell me anything. He just kept shouting your name, asked a couple of people where your office was. Of course, no one was willing to answer."

Harvey almost wanted to thank him for looking after him, enduring the threats and resisting the big temptation that is saving your life in exchange for someone else's. But he didn't think that the outcome had been worth the risk, so he just stayed quiet and let him go on.

"That's when he opened fire. I found a spot under one of the desks and I hid there, so I couldn't see much." Everyone's faces fell with disappointment, until Stu added, "But, as far as I can tell he was... not that tall, maybe a little shorter than Mike, icy blue eyes, almost greyish, mostly bald..."

The group was racking their brains over every possible matching profile. Anyone they could have heard about, or even worked against on a case with Harvey. It had to be something related to the firm, since the lawyer didn't seem to have any connection with criminal activities.

"Does that help you?" Stu looked at the others hopefully.

Suddenly, something in Harvey's mind clicked, and he didn't understand how he didn't figure it out sooner.

Turning towards Mike and sharing a knowing glance, he knew the kid had just had the same intuition. "Are you thinking about what I'm thinking?"

Then they both vocalized their guess at the same time, "Frank Gallo."

"Damn it." Harvey cursed under his breath, a new rush of panic pulsing in his veins and urging him to call Donna for the umpteenth time.

"Who the hell is Frank Gallo?" Stu asked eagerly.

"He was one of the inmates at the prison where I spent the last couple of months. Let's just say we didn't leave on the best of the terms." Mike briefly explained a far too complex and long story.

Meanwhile, Harvey kept silently praying for Donna to pick up. Now that he knew how dangerous the situation truly was, knowing Gallo's delusions of grandeur and insatiable hunger for payback, he just needed to hear her voice, reassuring him she was okay.

But none of that really came.

Harvey slammed the phone on the coffee table with force, leaving all of his friends concerned for his state of mind. But Louis wasn't too in tune with emotions to see this outburst as a subtle cry for help, assuming instead that Harvey was just giving up.

"Why are you wasting time? Try calling her." Louis pressed him.

Harvey let out a deep sigh, exhausted. They were at it for not even a couple of minutes and he was already dead tired.

"I already tried." He sounded almost defeated.

"Well," he insisted, "try again!"

"I've called her over five times. She's not answering!" Harvey threw his hands in the air in an exasperated gesture, his tone getting dangerously high as the sentence dragged on, "She's-"

For some reason — one that he could pinpoint very well — he couldn't bring himself to say anything bad, in the horrible possibility it could carry some truth. The words died on his tongue, crushed by an unbearable load of pain and apprehension.

He tried to swallow against a dry throat, the failed attempt only fueling his nausea. He mentally cursed his inability to think straight and not panic any time something happened regarding her. Keep it together Specter, he told himself, now is not the time.

The realization that he wasn't functional right when it mattered the most was a hard truth, but it didn't make it any less real.

To be honest, Harvey always managed to keep his anxiety from transpiring, tucking it away when possible and putting his brave face on. He frequently used this strategy in court, but it also applied to trifles in his everyday life. It was a pretty successful mechanism, rock-solid even, because it challenged him while also keeping his emotions at bay. A win-win. It served its aim perfectly because when Harvey played, he played to win.

To most people he would look as cool as a cucumber, but not to Jessica. She had picked him up from that dusty mailroom years prior and forced him to stand on his own feet, teaching him how to morph to adapt to society. The smart kid was suddenly thrown into a reality he didn't even know he could fit into, methodically coiffed and set up by a woman who both didn't realize was acting as his mentor. As much as he tried to deny it, Jessica had made Harvey Specter the man that everyone knew him as nowadays.

That was the reason why she knew when he was miserable.

"Okay, let's not cross that bridge just yet. You said it yourself, Harvey, she's probably still out. Maybe she has turned off her phone," she jumped into the conversation, bringing reason to play in his favor.

"No, you don't understand. She always answers. And plus," he momentarily paused, checking his Patel Philippe 5004P, "she should have gotten back over twenty minutes ago, and Donna is never late."

"Harvey-" She begged him to not let the worst conjectures take the better of him, but when he raised his hand to halt her, Jessica knew it was a losing battle.

"Don't," he closed his eyes, "just- don't. Don't tell me this is only in my head and that I'm panicking without reason. I know that something's wrong."

Jessica sighed at the stark reality. There was no reasoning with Harvey, mainly because deep down she knew he was probably right. They hadn't heard from the redhead, and not getting a hold of her when a killer was strolling around the firm, could easily be the simplest yet most fatal reason.

The managing partner took three steps ahead, hesitantly raising her hand to put it on Harvey's shoulder. It hurt seeing him like this, and right now she couldn't allow herself to feel the pain. She needed to bring her A-game, and she needed the best partner she'd ever had to be right there with her as well. She didn't think she could survive it alone.

Eyes still closed, Harvey felt the warmth of her gentle and vaguely maternal touch. Jessica spoke with a tactfulness he'd rarely ever heard, "I get that you're worried about her. You want to keep her safe, but the police is already taking care of it. They've already blocked the entrance of the building, no one can get in."

"And no one can get out." His gaze settled on her, leaving Jessica uneasy and unexpectedly unsettled. "What if she's already here and she's in danger?"

Jessica just stared at him, lips glued together.

The question was meant to leave her speechless. It was purposefully harsh and insidious, because she obviously couldn't guarantee anything in her position.

"I have to check," Harvey suddenly snapped, shrugging Jessica's hand off and eyeing the door with determination.

In all honesty, everyone had been surprised he hadn't rushed out when the second ring didn't meet Donna's voice.

Harvey was an impulsive man, and they all knew it. If he wanted something, he'd move heaven and earth to get it. He was reckless under many points of view, because luck always seemed to turn in his favor, making him feel powerful and leaving him craving for more. The gambler that he claimed to be, enjoyed raising his tower of chips, daring more and more, supposing he was invincible just because.

But sooner or later he'd have to realize that he really was just human. He couldn't be right all the time and eventually run out of luck. But like everybody else, he would understand only when he'd land on his ass at rock bottom, and, as much as Jessica wanted him to grow up, she wished he didn't have to learn at his expenses. Harvey was a tough nut to crack and the karma wheel spun for everyone, so he would probably be at the receiving end this time.

"Harvey you don't always have to be the hero. Just- stay here and wait for the SWAT team to do their job," Jessica shouted at the back of his head, trying to hang on the last little amount of reason he had left.

He turned around, face hard and unreadable, "Jessica, I understand and appreciate your concern, but there's no room for argument here. It's non-negotiable."

Harvey was in for a fight, and he knew she knew that.

Jessica took a step back and gulped.

"Come on." Mike nodded his head in the direction of the hallway, "Let's go get them."

Harvey felt partly relieved in hearing that his friend was game. Sure, being on board with the risky idea of getting out there unharmed and without any leverage whatsoever meant he was just as desperate, but he was glad regardless.

Harvey silently acknowledged his gratitude by forcing a genuine smile.

"That's madness," Louis erupted, furious and scared all at once. "You're going to get yourself killed! You can't help anyone if you're dead."

"Let them go." Jessica surprised them all by giving her blessing.

Louis eyed her confused. She had been the first to try and talk Harvey out of it, and suddenly she was encouraging him?

"They're not gonna change their mind. Trying to dissuade these two knuckleheads is pointless," she explained. Knowing Mike and Rachel's history, and that it could be Donna at stake — the woman Harvey couldn't function without — only added reasons to be certain the two men wouldn't back off.

"Let's just keep in touch and try to be as quiet as possible. As soon as you find Donna and Rachel, you get back here and no one moves," she half-pleaded half-demanded.

"Consider it done." Harvey agreed, moving with Mike towards the glass door of Jessica's office again.

"Harvey," she called him, "be careful." Staring at him intently.

He broke their eye contact instantly — that wasn't the last time they were seeing each other. He would make sure of that.

* * *

The echo of each step the two men took resonated in the rather empty hallway, bringing to life the soundtrack of their death march. Footsteps landed heavily on the ground, marking the trail that would lead the predator to the prey. Every step they took left them more exposed and closer to the imminent danger, but there was no turning back now.

In front of them, stretched a wilderness, once land of liveliness, now turned into a ghost town. While the silence might have seemed due to the scarcity of the partners after Mike's departure, the deafening silence was still too odd. It had little to do with business, and much to do with the fact that dead people don't speak.

Mike and Harvey had developed some kind of hypersensitivity since the macabre emptiness rendered any other little sound suddenly loud and noticeable. Even a rustle of paper or sound of their own shoes on the ground made them jump. And as much as staying alert was positive, that was more like their warning bell, dooming them to get caught sooner rather than later.

As they were about to turn the corner, Mike cautiously took a peek to their right to make sure it was all clear. Harvey pressed himself behind the kid's shoulder to get a glimpse himself, only to find the space apparently empty. Seized with a stranger sense of confidence, Harvey pulled away and embarked the corridor first. He hadn't failed to notice the heat emanating from Mike's skinny body, proof of the incredible amount of agitation that was nagging at him.

He drew in a sharp but deep breath, telling himself he could loosen up a bit.

As they approached the first desk in sight though, their stomachs dropped unpleasantly, like they were riding a roller coaster and they had just taken the way down. Both men brought their hands to their faces, Mike covering his mouth for the shock, Harvey holding his nose for the smell. Although his brain had already registered the harsh smell of fresh blood and made sure to keep the memory alive in his mind.

A toned body laid slack on the ground. The white undertone of the skin was turning into a sickening green, and the eyes were still wide open, stuck with the initial shock of the aggression, although there was no life behind them.

The deceased man was floating on a pool of blood, making it impossible for Harvey to understand where he had been shot, even if he wanted to.

Harvey had never thought a human could hold so much blood. It felt like the scarlet liquid spilled endlessly from his lifeless body; as being dead wasn't already enough, the poor man had to endure being deprived until the last drop of life.

Thinking about it, the corpse probably belonged to one of the new tenants, since there was a little chance he was a client, or they would have recognized him.

The fact that Harvey had supposedly been working with that broker all these months under the same roof, but now wasn't even able to tell his name, hurt him in a way he didn't even know possible. Him being basically a stranger didn't waver the striking turmoil of seeing a dead body though, and Harvey felt like he was grieving his humanity more than the man's soul itself.

He wanted to get back. He wanted to undo everything. Delete, delete, delete until the last thing he remembered was what he had eaten for breakfast.

It took a toll on Harvey's certainties.

Just when he had started to come to terms with what he truly wanted, and had made peace with his feelings, a curveball was sent his way. It almost felt like a punishment, tearing him down just when he had started to rise again. Timing was just cruel, or fair, for the matter.

"Come on," Harvey barely whispered, "there's nothing we can do for him," he said, and it felt like leaving his brother behind. He guessed that was the first big piece of mercy he had to lose to survive this hell. Harvey only wished he would be left with enough to be considered human again.

Not without fuss or reluctance, Mike moved away from the body, avoiding it like it had been infected by some contagious disease, but never actually tearing his eyes from the oxblood staining his dress shirt.

None of them uttered a word during their rounds, not even when they came across the second, then the third, then the fourth and the fifth corpse scattered around the room. They were like toys long forgotten by the attention of a spoiled child, just like that — left to rot, without care or dignity.

The fact that neither of them cringed anymore at the view of the third body was probably an aspect they should have worried about. But there wasn't time to think about their lack of sensitivity.

A new hallway came in sight, and while the chance of bumping into an armed Frank Gallo was even more prominent, their throats tightened at the idea of more blood, more dead coworkers, or worse, agonizing ones. It was definitely easier to bypass the people who couldn't beg you to help them.

Out of nowhere, a third sound of footsteps joined theirs.

Both Harvey and Mike froze on their spot, unable to move a limb, unable to make word, unable to think, except for the little voice in their head that screamed to run, run and not look back.

Definitely not a smart choice: the bullet of a gun travels on average of 2,500 feet per second, so fast it can cut your brain in two before you even have the chance to turn around.

Yeah, not a good idea.

The sound of measured steps was still feeble, but nonetheless closer. They had too little time to think, and too much was at stake. Harvey's brain was clouded in some kind of haze that ensured him total disconnection andbewilderment.

Until something snapped.

He forced himself out of the daze, looking around feverishly, scanning the area back and forth. He glimpsed the entrance of the file room out of the corner of his eye and he rapidly browsed his options. He was pretty positive that they could make it inside safely, even if Mike showed no signs of life, or will to move.

Thinking that they couldn't pretend to be dead like opossums, he made a unilateral decision and dragged the kid away. Pulling him at the sleeve of his jacket and keeping his head down placing a hand on his neck, Harvey led the way until they reached the file room in just a couple of strides. He shut the door behind them.

Leaning against the shelves, they tried to catch their breath, taken away more from the scare, than the run. Harvey bent forward balancing his weight on his knees, panting heavily, still not totally processing what had just happened.

"Wow, man," Mike chocked out, "what a save." He gulped against a constricted throat.

Harvey only managed a cough as a response. In all honesty, his action had been dictated by instincts alone, but he welcomed the praise with open arms nonetheless.

The adrenaline hadn't even stopped pumping through their veins, that the door was pushed open.

Mike's heart jumped to his throat, and for a moment he thought he would actually choke on it. "You didn't lock the door?"

Harvey didn't know how to answer that. He didn't- did he? No, he couldn't have. And yet, the door was now wide open.

"How could you forget to lock the freakin' door?!" Mike whispered, but it came out with the force and insistence of a scream. "Everything about the save, I take it all back!"

The invader stepped over the threshold and moved around the room, so that his steps were heard first to their right, now to their left. If the couple had to take a guess, he was rounding the shelves to check for any possible presences.

Mike scanned the table in front of him and Harvey, eyeing a stapler and promptly taking it in his hands.

Harvey looked at him incredulously, trying to convey through his dirty stares what he couldn't say with actual words. _A stapler? That's your brilliant plan?!_, they seemed to spell. _Do you have any better ideas?_, Mike's eyes seemed to complain.

He wanted to be brave, he really wanted to, with every fiber of his being. Unfortunately though, when your opponent has a gun, acting like the brave hero doesn't usually pay off. Maybe putting up a fight wasn't exactly the brightest idea, and if he would just beg on his knees to be spared, Gallo would have mercy.

Mike shoved the thought away as soon as it had formed. Truth is, embarrassed or not by his cowardice, he actually pondered it for a second there. To give it all up.

The presence of the outsider was now evident. Mike, on the nearest end of the shelf, was the one who could actually feel this body standing on the other side of the metal piece of furniture. His head begun to spin, his palms were sweating — at this point he prayed whatever god was up there to not let the stapler fall out of his grab — and his heart was racing at an impressive speed.

One beat, two beats, Mike raised the stapler in his hands, got ready to strike and...

"Oh my sweet baby Jesus!" The thin man who rounded the shelf shielded himself, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Benjamin?!" Harvey and Mike yelled simultaneously.

"God, you've scared the crap out of us!" Harvey screamed out of his lungs, "We thought you were the shooter!"

"Well, I'm hiding _from_ the shooter!" Benjamin jumped at his defense. "Why the stapler?" He gestured to the 'weapon' still in firing position in Mike's hands.

"Oh, I- I had to protect us with something!" Mike almost blushed, being diminished by the IT guy was definitely a first.

"With a stapler?" Benjamin threw him a _what a loser_ look, complete with a crooked smile. "Nevermind," he quickly dismissed their little chat, "I might not be the killer, but I heard someone coming this way."

The now familiar grip at their stomachs returned full force, as the door was opened once again.

What was with not locking the door, anyway?

This time though, they were three hiding behind the shelves, and most likely not that lucky to find an harmless computer technician rather than an armed psycho again.

Mike reinforced his grip on the stapler, putting it into position again. Harvey would have actually rolled his eyes at his former protégé if their current predicament wasn't so fatal.

So they waited again, hands wielding their faux weapon, hearts hammering out of their chests, footsteps approaching, rounding the shelves, and, when they finally came face to face with the new intruder, Harvey's heart missed a beat, but for a completely different reason.

_Donna?_

* * *

**I know, I know, the cliffhanger... again. Well, I hope you enjoyed this gallery of dead bodies (gross), staplers and Benjamins regardless ! I personally enjoyed writing it so much, let me know what you think! I'm thirsty of human contact!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hi, it's me again.**

**Hope you're all fine and ready to enjoy a long overdue Harvey-Donna reunion, or, as I like to call it, the quiet before the storm... I originally planned for this to have more scenes, but it felt right as a standalone. **

**Thanks to everyone that reviews or follows (without you it would feel like screaming into the void) and Stefanie, who also managed to wish me happy Easter in Italian! (I mean, who does that?!) She's amazing.**

**Please, stay safe y'all.**

**G-**

**Chapter 7: Blind spot **

One beat.

Harvey's heart was thumping violently against his ribcage, the dull sound reverberating in his ears so loud that, as irrational as it was, he believed it could actually be heard from the outside. He tried to regulate his breathing, reminding himself the incessant hammering would only fuel his restlessness and therefore make him more traceable. He gulped; soundly. Maybe too soundly for someone who's hiding. If his two other companions noticed or minded, they didn't tell. But again, it wasn't like they would talk.

Two beats.

Mike reinforced his grip on the stapler, raising it over his own head. He was aiming it like a hand grenade — the office supply turned into their most powerful weapon once again. Harvey would have wanted nothing more than just take it from Mike's hands and use it to beat him until it knocked some sense into his head. Unfortunately, that opportunity never presented itself. Instead, Benjamin's body only pressed up against Harvey's side, almost snuggling into him in search of protection.

Three beats.

Mike sensed that the body on the other side of the shelf was ultimately too close to deem them safe anymore. He raised his shoulders, set his feet into position and got ready to strike. Swinging the metal object back and forth a couple of times, he took all the force he possessed to hit the intruder's head.

Four beats.

The intruder turned out to be Donna.

The three men were on edge, already mentally prepared to hurt Frank Gallo in order to defend themselves. Because when it comes to it, it's always better to be the attacker, rather than the victim. They were so focused on what they had to do, that, when it ended up them barking up the wrong tree, no one was able to notice in time.

Well, no one except Harvey. To be fair, he didn't instantly put two and two together. But you couldn't exactly blame him for being a little lost — one second he was preparing himself to face a dangerous fugitive, the next he glimpsed red hair, and it always led his brain to one thing. He never had the chance to see her face — as Donna's instincts kicked in and she instantly shielded herself from the object flying towards her — but he _knew_ it was her.

Timing though, timing had never been on their side, and this time was no different. It didn't pay Harvey the courtesy of granting him the few seconds he would have needed to process she was within reach and apparently safe, that he realized Mike's hand was still traveling towards her skull.

In the end, it all summed up to Donna on the verge of being hit, and his body reacted accordingly before his mind had anything to object. Next thing he knew, he was throwing himself on Mike, yelling at him to stop. However, in the whole exchange, the stapler still managed to graze her head.

Donna let out an uncharacteristically high-pitched squeal.

"Donna?" Mike looked at her bewildered, once he realized who he was really attacking. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing!" She retaliated, eyes wide and still stupefied. "What's with the stapler?" she asked between amused and pissed. Her eyes traveled to Mike's hands, her own still pressed on the spot right above her eyebrow.

Mike finally dropped the object, making peace with the fact that he wasn't cut out to save the day, and, even if he was, he certainly wouldn't have gotten anything done with office supplies. In all honesty, he was just really glad there was no reason to fight in the first place. For now.

"Where have you been? We've been trying to get a hold of you for hours!" Mike wondered.

"I- my phone died. Imagine my surprise when I get back from my break at the usual hour and find out the firm has been terrorized."

Harvey's eyes finally landed on Donna, still flustered and irritated by the guys' confusion. It was the first time he could allow himself to get a proper look at her: aside from being a little shaken — that much was obvious — he scanned her body to pleasantly discover she was untouched. Only the visual proof of her still in one piece, walking on her own two legs, completely unharmed, granted him to feel the lump, that was making it impossible to breathe finally loosening up.

How could he have been so blind? For so long, he kept pretending there was some unexplainable reason behind his inability to act the way he usually would. A reason why seeing her shed as much as a single tear or the possibility of a life without her, tore him apart every single time.

The reason he didn't delve deeper into his own feelings very often, was not because they were supposed to lay just there, undisturbed and unresolved, like some universal truth. It was because he had never been ready to face the music. But now, now that he was willing to play by his own rules, he could finally see how the notes, all of them, fit together for the simplest reason in the world. And he was dead tired of moving to the same old dance.

It was suddenly clear as day and he didn't want to spend another day feeling this helpless and lost without her. He _couldn't _live with the haunting idea of holding back when the prospect was losing her.

_Screw_ the stupid boundaries they had traced for themselves.

Harvey strode towards Donna, and, before she could even process what was going on, he had wrapped his arms around her and swept her up. She held him tight out of reflex, not because she was afraid he would let her fall — Harvey had never failed in that aspect. His sudden proximity made her realize how much she had missed him. _Really _missed him.

Hoisted up in the safety of his embrace — away from all the chaos and cruelty of the world — she felt loved and protected like she hadn't felt in a really long time. She treasured those moments — fewer than there should have been — in which she felt like the most precious of _his_ belongings.

He was taking care of her not just like she meant something, but like she meant _everything_, and she was sure that couldn't be the only one feeling that. She wasn't making it up, how their surrounding ceased to exist and it was just the two of them, facing the world together. Donna realized, in a way, it had always been like this.

Harvey put her down like she was made of the finest crystal, and the moment her feet touched the ground, the spell ended.

They were back in the Pearson Specter Litt file room, haunted by ghosts from their pasts, and harassed by a dangerous enemy — everything was still the same. Well, not _everything_. This time they weren't rowing upstream, but towards each other. _This _was the way it had always been meant to be.

She reluctantly tried to break the hug, pulling away slightly, almost begging to be pushed against his flesh harder, and to be never let go. Harvey met her halfway, creating enough room to look into her eyes, but still firmly holding her forearms, never wanting them to be separated again. She was sand, and she was slipping through his fingertips too fast.

"Are you ok? Are you hurt?" His concerned expression searching for a positive answer. His eyes bore into her, and she felt like a goddess upon his stare.

"No, it's all good," she conceded with a timid smile, not shying away from putting her hand on his cheek in silent comfort. His skin was alive under her fingertips, and she could feel it morphing, rippling as a frown replaced his soft expression from before.

"That's not true. He hurt you," Harvey noted, almost horrified by the cut above her brow. "You're an idiot. Look what you've done!" He pointed out again, furiously lashing out at Mike.

The man got closer to observe the damage he had caused. Donna's forehead was slightly bruised, and little droplets of fresh blood were seeping out of a gash a few inches above her left eyebrow.

He presumed the injury didn't require stitches, but Mike had witnessed her and Harvey's reunion, the adoration and fear clearly visible in his boss' face, that , he didn't dare to protest. If he had any doubts Harvey was in love with Donna, they had all vanished. Their current predicament had wrung out Harvey's true feelings, and Mike would never dare to diminish his worries — god knows he would go ballistic if anything happened to Rachel.

"I'm sorry! I didn't see her there! In my defense, I thought she was Frank Gallo!" Mike ruffled the hairs on his head — if he was being honest, he thought he was already starting to lose them.

"Who?" Donna's whole body tensed right away.

Her stomach dropped at the mention of that criminal, the familiar chill traveling down her spine. It was like a switch had been flipped, enlightening her blurry thoughts, and _how the heck could she have been so clueless?_

The signals had been there, all of them, and she normally wouldn't have spent a second of her precious time to figure out the creepiness of that hooded man resembling Frank Gallo. She had been there, watching as the killer made his way to all of her beloved ones… and she had let it happened.

She should have trusted her gut like she had done so many times before, and maybe none of this wouldn't have happened. She guessed that was just how human mistakes work, but for someone who had always prided herself to be one step ahead, that was a really lame way to show you're not perfect. This time _he _had been a step forward and it had cost them human lives. Human lives that were now stripped of their dignity and peace.

Harvey could sense her spiraling into oblivion, and willed her to voice her fears, throwing her a stare almost connatural to her psychic ones that always seemed to work.

Donna drew in a shaky breath before speaking up.

Like he said — it always works.

"I'm pretty sure I've seen him," she said earnestly, "no, I'm definitely sure I've seen him." Not making the mistake of second guessing herself again.

"What do you mean you've seen him?" Benjamin dared to open his mouth for the first time since Donna had stepped into the room, putting aside his turmoil.

"When I was leaving the firm a couple of hours ago, I saw a man taking the elevator with Melanie." Mike visibly paled at the secretary's name. "I couldn't see his face, but I just- got this feeling and now-" She momentarily paused. "What is it, Mike?"

Mike tried to not make eye contact with her, knowing that one inquisitorial stare from her was all it took to make him sing like a canary. He feigned ignorance.

"You made a face. What is going on?" she asked a second time. When she was met with silence once more, she began growing impatient, "I said _what is going on_!" she bursted out, her tone not leaving room for mistakes as she demanded the truth.

Harvey silently pleaded him to not spill it out, not to give her a reason to beat herself up even more, to consider herself guilty of all that had happened. Because he knew her train of thoughts — they weren't so different to his after all.

Mike shook his head in a voiceless apology to Harvey, and then went straight to what Donna wanted to know, "It started on the 46th floor. The shooting began there."

Donna's face fell. Maybe she wasn't ready to hear that after all.

"So it's true. It was him, and I let him get away."

"No, Donna, stop," Harvey tightened his grip on her, the grip that hadn't faltered since he had first touched her. For two people who didn't touch, _ever_, they were seemingly comfortable with it, so comfortable they were unable to stop. "None of this is your fault."

"I knew it was him and I let him take the elevator that brought him to you. I even went to the nail salon for Christ's sake! I was getting a manicure while he was here shooting people. How is this not my fault?"

"Listen to me, I don't have time for this nonsense. I know it doesn't help you, but what's done is done, and we can't afford to lose our sanity in _what-ifs_ that bring us nowhere." Harvey hated that she could doubt herself even for a second. He also hated that he had to be almost stern. But Donna was a smart woman, and she responded to strength, not to weakness. There was a time to be gentle and a time to be firm.

But looking at her, seeing the uncertainty and the fear in her red-rimmed eyes, reminded him of how he had almost lost her to prison. And even then, he had done nothing more than pushing her away, because he thought comforting her wasn't his place. Maybe he had been wrong then, and he is wrong now. Maybe she just needed to be reassured.

"But what I said it's true, you couldn't have prevented any of this, and even if you could have, there's still very little you could have done. I know that you're _Donna, _but you're still human. And it's okay to be." He began tracing her brow with his thumb, with a softness in his gaze and a sparkle in his eyes that made her believe everything was going to be ok.

Donna couldn't do anything but nod, trusting him with her emotions when she clearly couldn't control them. It was nice, to know he was looking after her. _After them,_ even if he didn't know yet.

"Now, we're going to find a first-aid kit, and we're going to take care of that cut, huh?"

"No," she waved his hand off, "don't be ridiculous. It's nothing. We have plenty of injured people here. People in _real _need of a first-aid kit."

"Donna-"

"Harvey, I'm not trying to punish myself or prove anything here. I'm just stating a fact, and you know as well as I do that I'm right."

"She's right," Benjamin said as he stuck a hand into his pocket and fished out an embroidered handkerchief, "I know this is not ideal, but she can use this to stop the bleeding for now."

Donna took the tissue and flashed him a grateful smile. She peeked at the white piece of silk in her hands: little green dots formed little doodles scattered around, shaping no real pattern. Donna turned it around to notice a neatly embroidered "B" in italics.

The redhead questioned the origin of the delicate pocket accessory, far too detailed to come from some random shop.

"My mother," Benjamin satisfied her curiosity. "She does this for a living. Well, not this- this particular one… I mean-"

Donna tried but couldn't suppress a giggle, amused by the man's antics. She enjoyed making him uncomfortable, throwing silly jokes around and intimidating him in the past. Whenever he came to her cubicle to update her VOX, she knew it was showtime. And, oh boy, she liked it. But seeing him squirm now, flushed and stammering, she kinda felt bad for the poor guy.

"My mother, she makes handkerchiefs for a living, but she made this one for me," he rephrased. "Because I'm her son," he added, his words followed by a deep exhale.

"Thank you so much, Benjamin. That's very kind of you," she decided to put him out of his misery.

The IT guy could not resist mirroring her pretty smile, impressed by her lack of witty remarks or snarky jokes, "No problem, Miss Paulsen."

She giggled, "Call me Donna, Benjamin. I think we're way past that."

Harvey took the cloth from her hands and gently applied pressure on her wound, watching as the clean silk got tainted by dark red. When she hissed, he apologized, wondering how the hell he was supposed to protect her when a little cut was enough to make him sick to his stomach.

He guessed he was just glad Donna was who she was: an independent woman who was more than capable of looking after herself. Not that he'd ever willingly let her do that, that's for sure.

Mike told the group he had spoken on the phone with Rachel, and that she was hiding and waiting for them in her office. No one was thrilled to leave the security of the file room, their only safe harbor without the far too revealing glass walls.

They went to leave the room begrudgingly, when a sudden urge made Donna reach for Harvey's wrist, halting his movements. She felt his pulse's speed rising consistently, and his veins throbbing under her fingertips.

Harvey was startled by the abrupt contact and trailed his eyes from where she was touching him to her eyes, hoping to be lucky enough to find the answer to her behavior.

_This is it, _Donna thought, _this is the moment I'm telling him he's going to be a father_.

She was done following her head, she should just start listening to her gut, living the moment, making a move without thinking too much about the consequences. It's not like her brain had been acting consistently lately, having already betrayed her body and not catching up with the fact she had been hosting a zygote for the last four months.

But, as much as she had her good intentions, as much as she wanted to tell him, she couldn't.

It was silly, really, she did not expect tears (okay maybe a few), him hoisting her up or showering her barely-there baby bump with kisses. But she thought life-changing news like this deserved a little bit more. She owed it to their baby and she owed it to him. Throwing a bombshell like this at him while fighting a murderer could be very devious.

Harvey sensed it: the hesitation and the fact that she was holding something back. He thought it had to do with the turmoil they were all experiencing, and that he ought to give her time to process. And yet, the way her eyes were trying to communicate with him, begging to do their magic, and understand everything without needing a word, told him there was so much more than that. But the truth was definitely out of reach for Harvey at the moment.

She ultimately gave up, "We're going to be okay," She told him like she meant it. _All of us are going to be okay_.

He tried to break a timid smile for her, squeezing her hand and dragging her with him.

She would tell him, just not now. She had already waited so long, what difference could a couple of hours make?

Donna will later realize that a couple of hours could make all the difference in the world.

* * *

**And a lot is about to change indeed. Stay tuned for what's next. Hope you're enjoying it so far. Let me know in the reviews!**


	8. Chapter 8

**This weekly update is a tough one, you've been warned. So much action and heartache. I do hope I was capable enough to make something good out of the stream of ideas in my head. **

**Thank you so much to Stafanie, that is always there to help me out and give me wonderful suggestions. **

**Stay safe and enjoy this ride xx**

**G-**

**Chapter 8: My baby shot me down**

"He's here."

"No, he is not."

Harvey and Mike walked ahead, making sure everything looked in order, while Benjamin remained attached to Donna's hip, like a scared child hiding under his mum's skirt. The only difference was that Benjamin was more than grown-up, and his clinging to her shoulder was beginning to feel too heavy for Donna's liking. Sure, he was thin, but it was like carrying around dead weight.

"He's here. He's here, and he's going to kill us," Benjamin said, pulling her down with his grip once again.

"No one's going to kill us, unless you keep talking," Donna signalized, maybe hoping the indirect threat would make him shut up somehow. She was already petrified by her own fear, so much that she couldn't think about handling Benjamin's one as well. She was trying to fight the unpleasant lump in her throat and her shaky legs, but she couldn't do it with him constantly reminding her of the danger they were currently in.

"This is wrong. Let's go back, please let's go back. I don't want to die," Benjamin cried out; eyes already glistening, but the only thing Donna seemed able to notice was how suffocating he was being.

"Benjamin!" she suddenly lashed out, frantically disentangling from his limbs, that were now more like tentacles. "For God's sake, have a little faith and suck it up!"

Harvey and Mike turned around at the ferocious scolding, tempted to ask Donna to cut Benjamin some slack. Not everyone had the same way of dealing with emotions; but that was also why they didn't say anything — if they accepted Benjamin being a scared little bunny, they had to accept Donna's inner rage as well.

"You can't do it?" she asked rhetorically," Fine. Then go back hiding somewhere until they find you. But we're a family and we're not going to rest until we know we're all safe. So follow us or don't follow us, but we can't have your whining our heads the entire time. Sorry to be this rude, but we can't afford to be slowed down right now."

Benjamin seemed to analyze the pros and cons longer and way better than the others did, but eventually arrived at the same solution, "I'm with you," he nodded his head.

"I'm glad." Donna offered him a mild, yet generous smile.

Just as they were beginning to move again, the sound of gunshots cut through the silence. This time it wasn't just some noise, but the unmistakable sound of bullets piercing the air. Panic rose fast in the group, who looked back and forth to understand where the menace was coming from.

Out of a sudden, like a pack of wild horses, a group of screaming people stormed into the hallway. They were trying to dodge the bullets as best as they could, but the run was messy and hectic. Colleagues were bumping and stumbling over each other, deprived of any sense of compassion — at this point, they were just selfishly trying to save their own skin.

Before the herd could walk all over them, Harvey grabbed Donna's elbow out of reflex and dragged her with him under the receptionist's desk. They both landed on the floor with a heavy thud, Harvey's sterling body shielding Donna's more fragile one. The thought of their two friends crossed the redhead's mind for a split of a second, before the gunshots returned full force, nearer and nearer, and her mind shut off.

It had been seconds, or, who could tell, maybe even minutes, before the quiet returned to reign supreme. And while in another context it would have been a good sign, in this case, it was definitely bad. It wasn't just silence, it was _dead_ silence.

At the realization, Harvey's body didn't feel like a shelter anymore, but it was suddenly becoming an unsustainable weight. She applied gentle pressure on his chest, signaling him she wanted him to move off her. Harvey got the clue and tried to step aside as quietly as he could. The last thing he wanted was to draw attention to them.

He gave her a hand sitting up straight, still under the surface of the wooden desk. As soon as her eyes came to the same level as his, Harvey tried to convey his thoughts through his stare. It was like second nature, they had trained years for this. She could tell by the slight yet present shift of his pupils that he was scanning her body for any signs of injury. Could tell by the way his fingertips pressed against her skin, that he was feeling protective: he wanted to know if she was okay. She just nodded, and that was enough.

Harvey got a peek of the hallway, and because everything seemed in order — too much in order, like Frank Gallo had made a clean sweep — he waved Donna to stand up as well.

The view, though, was not what they had expected at all.

Three dead bodies.

A young woman, shot in the forehead.

A middle-aged man, laying on his back in a pool of blood.

The cleaning lady, who had probably tried to get out before being killed, slumped near the elevators

It was disgusting.

It was disturbing.

It was unfair.

Harvey's peripheral vision caught sight of an apparently unharmed Mike curled up in front of somebody. He took Donna's hand and tentatively walked towards them. His mouth began to dry, while his hand began to sweat, so she only held it tighter.

"Benjamin, oh god." Donna's hand flew to her mouth as she took in the scene unfolding right before her eyes.

Benjamin was breathing through the pain of a massive bleeding, caused by a bullet stuck near his lungs. He was already white as a ghost, and every time his nostrils tried to inhale some air, more blood seeped out of his chest, making him wish he stopped trying altogether.

Donna launched herself to his side, promptly helping Mike putting pressure on the wound.

"What happened?" she asked the question to which she already knew the answer.

_Never_ ask a question until you're really ready to hear the answer, she thought.

"I was behind that pillar the whole time, but-" Mike started before being cut back, from Benjamin himself, no less.

"I've never been good at running." He felt the need to play it cool and make humor, something he had never done since the beginning of his life. He guessed it was appropriate for the end then.

"Harvey, call the police. Tell them to send someone over." Donna only turned her head towards him, standing dumbstruck behind them, unable to move.

"Donna-" Harvey wasn't a doctor, nothing further from that, but he was fairly sure a person couldn't lose this much blood and make it another few hours. Or minutes.

Benjamin coughed. Blood. He coughed blood.

"Harvey, call someone! Goddamn it!" she yelled, her eyes already burning.

At this point, Harvey took out his phone and did as she wished.

"Benjamin, listen, we've got you. Someone's going to come here and they're going to take care of you. Got that?" Mike reassured his friend, even though they had been in this mess for hours now and back-up had yet to show up.

"Benjamin," Donna sobbed, her hands squeezing his now soaked dress shirt.

"Donna?" The man's eyelids fluttered, fighting to stay open.

"Yes, Benjamin." She freed her left hand to take his. "I know," she said, even though she was positive she didn't know anything at the moment. But one thing she was sure of — she was feeling his emotional distress like it was hers.

"No, I-" he paused, the concept deeply engraved in his mind, the words unthinkably hard to get out. "They're not going to come in time."

"You don't know that," Donna shook her head in denial.

"It's my body… I can _feel_ that."

His eyes stayed closed for longer than they did before, and for a second her heart stopped.

"Donna?" He called her out of nowhere, and it started beating again.

She squeezed his hand to let him know she was there.

"Listen to me, carefully. Remember when," he caught his breath, before going on, "when I used to come, every once in a quarter to your cubicle to-"

"Yes, yes of course," Donna cut it short, not wanting him to throw away precious energy. "You did that on purpose didn't you? You didn't like my act."

"No, I actually loved your act. So much that I recorded you."

"You what?" Her eyes stuck wide open, and his own timidly fluttered open.

"I created a digital version of you, with approximately 10,000 of your best quotes packed into five gigahertz of computer power," he managed through gasps and wet coughs.

"That's why you've been personally updating my computer and nobody else's?"

"Yes. The point is, everybody wants to say the right thing at the right time, and you are the one woman in the universe who says the right thing every time." He was spending his last breaths complimenting her, and she couldn't, nor wanted, to keep the tears at bay. Some of them even landed on his already wet and stained dress shirt. "So, I wasn't going to ask you this for," Benjamin eyed his limp body, pretending to ponder, "well- I certainly didn't expect to do it now, but, Donna Paulsen, how would you feel about pursuing this as a business opportunity?"

He was looking at her with hope in his eyes, but the kind of hope that only the ones who have nothing to lose possess. It sounded more like his last will and testament, than a casual job offer, and she was making way for the possibility of him feeling like he had to say this before it was too late.

"Benjamin, we'll have all the time in the world to take care of it. But we're going to do it together."

"No, I- I won't be there." Benjamin fought his own tears.

"Benjamin-" she sobbed.

"Please, just- you have to take it out on your own. Don't let two years of my life go to waste. At least tell me you'll think about it." And in this situation, Donna would have agreed to anything for him.

But it didn't feel right to have one of the purest and sweetest men on the earth shorten his dreams and projects for the future into a few words just because there was no tomorrow for him. It didn't feel right that he had to confess his deepest desires to people, who he undeniably cared about, but who weren't his family. Just to save what little was worth saving of his legacy.

"Ok, Benjamin. Yes, whatever you want."

"Damn it," Benjamin chuckled, and immediately hissed for the pain it had caused. "When that first year associate came to the IT department, challenging me with his eidetic memory, bribing me with food, I knew I was in for trouble," he said, looking intently at Mike.

"You're a rockstar, Benjamin, I hope you know that." Donna beamed with what felt like undeserved pride.

"Not even Zuckerberg, when the network goes haywire and you're in breach of contract litigation worth $400 million, manages to have it up and running again in 23 minutes." Mike reminded him, drying his own tears with the back of his hand.

"You remember," Benjamin noted, with such an adorable tone of surprise that made Mike's heart ache in every sense of the word.

"You're hard to forget, Benjamin," he sniffled.

His voice had become way too feeble since he had disclosed his project to Donna, so when he stopped talking, they were all relieved he was resting. But when his chest stopped rising and falling, the agonizing gasping ceased, and when he didn't blink, they knew he was resting _for good. _Hopefully resting _in peace_.

"Benjamin?" Donna gently nudged his shoulder, foolishly hoping to elicit some reaction.

As soon she got none, she closed his eyes with trembling fingers, and burst into tears, keeled over his bleeding chest. The tears floated down quicker than she could handle, and she sobbed so hard her whole body was trembling.

The only sounds were her and Mike's cries, and right after the loud and anguished lament reached Harvey's ears, he ended his call with the police and got closer to Benjamin's resting place.

The scene was just too cruel to watch: a man so young, yet so done with his life, and two of the people he loved the most in this world, who seemed too hurt to want to regain possession of theirs. After certain moments were captured in his memory, Harvey confessed to himself that he was reluctant to go back to his life as well.

They sit there, next to the cold body, mourning his premature death, while Harvey wished his arms were big enough to hold both his friends at the same time.

"Come on, let's get going." Harvey's husky voice spoke after a considerable amount of time.

Donna's head rose from Benjamin's lap for the first time in too long. Her pale cheeks were stained with blood.

"No, please, Harvey. Let me stay with him. Let me stay with him until they find us. I can't leave him here," she pleaded, holding Benjamin's lifeless body close to hers, where in total contradiction a life was growing.

"I can't let you do that," Harvey's heart ached at the prospect of objecting. He wanted to give everything to Donna, and denying her the possibility of being near her deceased friend was definitely not what he wished. God knows _he _was heartbroken for this unfair death, but he'd be damned if anyone got caught in the crossfire of Frank Gallo's madness again, _especially _her.

"Why not?"

"Because if you stay here you're an easy target. Come on." He tried to raise her up on her feet, but she only held Benjamin tighter. He didn't know if it was because her legs gave out, or because she was putting up resistance.

Harvey kneeled next to Donna, taking her face with both his palms. "Please, he'll come in here and shoot again. There's nothing we can do for him. I'm sorry, but, please, do it for me. I need you. I can't live without you."

Mike sighed and placed his hand on Donna's shoulder. He looked at her with bloodshot eyes.

"Yes, Donna, he's right. Benjamin wouldn't want us to end like this. And you have his legacy to preserve. You owe it to him."

At those words, she separated herself from Benjamin. The redhead reached for the inner pocket of her dress, taking out the embroidered handkerchief. She gently placed it on the body. "Now we can go."

* * *

"Rachel?" Mike whispered, looking both sides, before eyeing the apparently empty office in front of him, "Rachel? Are you there?"

"Why are you whispering? There's no one around," Harvey pointed out, but keeping a low tone as well. Mike didn't know if he was subconsciously perceiving the danger, or was just mocking him. Though, after what had happened, he bet Harvey had no energy to joke around.

"Well, you don't know that," Mike made a point of not reminding him what had happened last time one of them said they were alone.

Last time that brought them here: Mike so pissed with the world he would like for it to catch fire; Donna so numb you could pinch her and elicit no reaction whatsoever; Harvey worried sick for everyone but himself, staring at the office Rachel should have been in, but finding it void. He sincerely didn't think they could make it through another loss.

So Mike mustered up the courage of calling Rachel's name, once again, louder this time. After a bunch of few seconds of suffocating silence, a noise — the kind your neighbor does at three in the morning when he feels the sudden need of interrupting your precious sleep by moving furniture — broke it.

Mike glimpsed the top of Rachel's head through the glass — dark, ruffled hair coming out from under her desk. She gingerly came out of hiding, but sprinting to meet Mike halfway the second she laid eyes on him.

"Oh, thank god." Mike brushed her hair tenderly.

"Are you guys alright?" Rachel instantly asked, concerned about her friends' safety, since their journey to her office had obviously put them in jeopardy.

She did not know that they believed Donna was missing in the first place, since Mike hadn't been inclined to make her worry about her best friend's wellbeing, not to mention she had no idea about the shooting outside the file room.

They exchanged a look as they silently agreed on postponing the moment, when they would have to tell her the truth, for as long as possible, or at least until they were all out of the woods.

"Yes," Mike flaunted his best fake smile, "we're alright. But how are you?"

"I'm fine, but I'm pretty sure someone's over there, and she's not fine," Rachel pointed at the cubicle in front of her door.

Mike threw Harvey a quick glance. The lawyer got the message and took Donna's hand, purposefully choosing the one that she was currently busy massacring, fidgeting with her own nails. He led her to the referred spot, where they found a girl, curled up in a corner under her desk, almost as if trying to get swallowed by the piece of furniture.

"Hey," Harvey lowered himself to reach her same level, "are you hurt?"

The girl didn't even bother to raise her head from her knees, continuing to rock herself back and forth, murmuring something quite indiscernible. If she was praying, or if she was cursing, that wasn't of immediate importance. Harvey had a hard time trying to make her look up and gain more than a few locks of straight blonde hair to examine.

"Hey," Donna spoke for the first time after they had left Benjamin behind. Harvey thought he could cry from the sound of her voice alone, but decided to put the pride he felt regarding her strength on hold, and instead just made room for her to sit on the floor next to him. "I'm Donna, and he's Harvey. Do we know you?"

No matter how soothing and calm Donna's tone was, the girl did not flinch a bit.

"Listen, it's ok. Whatever it is, we'll deal with it. Just, we're worried about you, and we can't see if you need help. So can you please get out of there?" Donna extended her hand.

The stranger shook her head. _Well, that's a start, _Donna thought.

"Okay, then, maybe we can sit next to you?" Donna proposed, looking poignantly at Harvey, almost directing the question at him.

She could see he wasn't that convinced, but he put an effort anyway, "Yes, of course. Is that alright for you?"

When the girl didn't object, they took it as a good sign and slid next to her. It took several minutes and a ridiculously high amount of awkward glances between Harvey and Donna before the blonde eventually looked up and opened her mouth, "I'm Claire. I've been working as a tempt for a few weeks."

"Ok. Claire, are you hurt?"

"No, I just- I don't want to get out of here. I heard gunshots, I'm scared."

"Well, Claire, we're going to find a better place and we're going to hide there. Is that ok?"

She vaguely nodded and Harvey took it as a clue to slowly crawl out of there. He wasn't even standing completely up that he suddenly paled. He pushed the two girls under the desk with an urgency that was almost violent.

Donna tried to ask him what was wrong, but he abruptly muffled her question, covering her mouth with his palm. "He's here."

Donna's blood froze in her veins.

Claire's only reaction was to roll up into a ball as she did before.

"Mike Ross," Frank Gallo acknowledged the young lawyer, aiming the gun at him, "long time no see."

Mike swore the concept of time standing still was becoming real as he looked at his enemy walking towards him in slow-motion. He felt catapulted in a world that wasn't his anymore.

He took longer than he was proud of to get back to himself. "And still not quite long enough."

"Mike." He heard Rachel's broken cry, standing a few feet from him and begging him to not enrage the beast.

"Oh, you must be Rachel. It's a pleasure to meet you. This guy wouldn't stop talking about you. You're even prettier than what I've imagined," Gallo complimented her with noxious amusement, enjoying pushing Mike's buttons way too much.

"Gallo, eyes on me!" Mike called his attention back to him, hands raised in the air in surrender, but with an incredible want to fight.

"Easy there, Mikey. There's nothing to fuss about. Listen to me, I'm willing to put that little sneaky trap you pulled in prison aside if you tell me where Harvey is." He moved the gun around as he spoke, and Rachel jumped at every sudden move.

Mike willed every muscle in his body to not flinch towards that damn desk he knew Harvey was currently hiding under. He lied straight to Frank's face, "I don't know where he is." He feigned ignorance, trying to be as convincing as he could.

The shooter began to laugh almost hysterically. His attention on the target faltered for a few seconds, while his body shook from the laughter and the hand with the gun relaxed at his side. As soon as Mike's shoulder dropped though, Frank flinched and the barrel returned to look directly at him.

"You want me to believe you're not thick as thieves anymore? Stop messing around and tell me. Otherwise..." he trailed off, cocking the hammer of the gun.

Donna squirmed in Harvey's arms, and the more she moved, the more he attempted to hold her still. She was debating whether to do the right thing and show up or stay there, quietly drowning in her vile desire of keeping Harvey safe. Plus, who assured them that Frank wouldn't still kill them all? It wasn't like loyalty shined on the top of his list.

While Harvey wouldn't have hesitated a second to take the bullet for Mike, the fact that he had Donna by his side changed it all. He couldn't allow to put her in jeopardy like that, so he went against every moral code he thought was as solid as a rock, and _chose_ to guard _her_. Even if leaving his almost-brother on the receiving end was killing him.

Rachel thought of being selfish, for once in her life, and yell at Gallo where everyone was. And yet, for some reason she couldn't explain, she stayed frozen on her spot, quiet as a mouse.

For Mike, on the other hand, betraying Harvey was never an option. He had already suffered the pain and the consequences of making some risky move behind his back in the past and wasn't willing to make that mistake again. That man had risked his ass more times than he could possibly count for him, giving him a home and helping him getting it back when he had lost it. And if he shied away now, just when things got difficult, what was the point of all the speeches about _I don't give a shit if it's the queen of England, you come to me, you always come to me. _

This time, Mike chose to come to him in a different way — remaining on his own. He knew that if Harvey was in this position, he would do the same thing.

So he repeated that he didn't know almost lightheartedly.

The gun fired another shot.

Yeah, Donna thought, a couple of hours could indeed make all the difference in the world.

* * *

**Well, before you pick your torches and pitchforks, let's talk this through. Mike is not dead, but he's been shot. Writing Benjamin's death was harder than I would have ever thought. But I think that to make the story as believable as possible, someone had to die. And I swear I will write a storyline involving Donna and his project worth of him. Hope you'll stick around to see what happens next. Lots of love. **


	9. Chapter 9

**A quick hello before you dive into this chapter.**

**Just wanted to make sure you're still home and safe, and hopefully I can help you pass time with this fic.**

**Thanks to everyone who's been showing me support. I beg you not to stop, and not only because of my delusions of grandeur, but because it keeps me motivated and makes me feel connected to you. A special thank you always goes to Stefanie, because without her the chapter (and my confidence) wouldn't be what it is. **

**Enjoy xx **

**G- **

**Chapter 9: Sledgehammer**

Mike was hit by a bullet in his left shoulder.

Although Gallo had literally proclaimed his intentions, giving some kind of heads-up, the actual moment the weapon fired caught Mike by surprise. He had heard the sound of the gunshot, and his body had unconsciously started to shield away from the danger, but, before he could even realize it, he had already been hit.

The intensity of the blow had caused him to stumble backward, before collapsing on the floor with a heavy thud.

At the dull sound, something snapped inside his friends' heads. Donna stopped squirming altogether, paralyzed in Harvey's embrace, who seemed to have developed a similar numbness as well. They could only rely on their hearing to guide them through the blur of the current events, and while they wouldn't complain about not witnessing the gory scene, they couldn't help but conjure up the worst scenarios.

Rachel, on the other hand, had to endure the piercing noise of the gunshot cushioned by Mike's flesh echoing into her ears, as well as the sight of his injured body sprawled motionless on the floor.

Lying flat on his back for a bunch of seconds, Mike's body was limp and unmoving. It wasn't because he couldn't move, or because he was unconscious, but because he was contemplating whether he was dead or still alive. It's not like he had any kind of experience, so how could he know? He could feel his heartbeat pounding in his ear, a strong, even accelerated rhythm. _That must be a good sign_, he thought to himself. But who told him that he wasn't making it all up in his head? That maybe this was what dying felt like. He held his breath, either because he was afraid it would hurt in case he was still alive or because he was afraid he couldn't breathe anymore in case he was dead. He couldn't tell.

All of a sudden, he was taken back from his trance, inadvertently gasping for air. Rachel, who had been holding her breath since the moment Mike hadn't shown any sign of life, began to breathe properly again as well. There was still that unbearable weight on her chest but she figured it wouldn't go away any time soon.

Mike instinctively reached for his numb shoulder, where his fingertips met fresh blood and his nose was hit with a pungent smell, the kind that makes your head spin critically, and the bile rise up in your throat. He couldn't understand if his dullness was caused by the shock his system was currently trying to adjust to or by the adrenaline coursing through his veins. Either way, he felt that something was off. He may not be able to pinpoint exactly what it was, but he didn't feel like himself, beyond any doubt.

As the first waves of panic began to wash over him, Mike felt like he was drowning. His breathing became erratic, labored, short-winded. His limbs raised without a real purpose in mind because getting up was definitely not an option. It looked like he was trying to reach for something or someone. But one wrong movement and a sharp pain shot up his arm. At that point, Mike understood that numb was definitely better than aching.

He hissed and tried to roll over in discomfort. Rachel fell on her knees beside him. She was gently whispering soothing words that, as much as he appreciated them, couldn't do anything to relieve his misery.

Gallo let out a throaty chuckle, clearly finding the whole scene unfolding in front of him particularly amusing. I'm his sick mind, his ego had just gotten a boost, giving that he had the right over life or death on his enemies. He felt powerful, reckless and forceful. He fished a recharge out of his pants' pocket, reloading the gun. "Alright, that was just a little warning, pal."

And that was true indeed. The shot wasn't meant to kill Mike, but to scare him, coaxing him into spilling the beans. Gallo had already spent too much time wandering around the firm and wasting bullets for other people who weren't Harvey. Although getting back at Mike had been kind of a guilty pleasure, he needed the guy alive to find a lead. In his quite rational insanity, even Gallo understood that the police were bound to get him sooner rather than later, and he wanted to make sure his plan worked by then.

"Here's what's going to happen," he took two steps forward. "As much as I'd Iove to spend the whole day watching you writhe in agony, I feel generous. As a matter of fact, I'm going to give you another chance."

Mike shuddered at those words. He wasn't sure he would be able to endure another shot.

Frank Gallo's face split in a scornful grin before he raised the gun and pointed it at a defenseless Mike, this time at his head. "Where is Harvey Specter?" he repeated once again.

Harvey's mind was thinking so loud you could basically hear the little wheels spinning in his head. He couldn't sit back when Mike was falling on his sword for him. Again. Guilt was eating him alive, because — as much as there was no guarantee that they would make it through — he was currently secure under that desk. And Mike going to prison instead of him was the main reason all their lives were at stake in the first place.

He had to fix it, and he had to do it fast.

Thinking about his options, Harvey spied a stapler sitting on the floor a few inches from him. A grip took hold of his heart, as the object instantly reminded him of how the kid wanted to use one of those to put them out of the jam in the first place.

Right then, he had an idea. A stupid idea, but again, it wasn't like they had much of a choice.

Harvey leaned forward when Donna's hand reached for his bicep, halting his movements. He turned to look at her and saw it written all over her face: fear. Her eyes were pleading him the same way they did when she begged him not to turn himself in. But this time _she _had to be the one to have faith in him. Harvey's hand gently removed her hand from his arm, already missing her touch, squeezing it to let her know he wasn't going anywhere.

The lawyer reached out to take the stapler in his hand, holding it like a baseball. He hadn't pitched since his dad had died, and frankly, since he injured his shoulder, he had sure lost his touch. He tried not to think about Tanner telling him that his senior year's team had won without him, because, right now, he had to pitch like he had never before. Suddenly he was back on the mound, sweating and with his heart hammering in his chest, adrenaline pumping in his veins, willing to do his best to take home the win. A teenage boy, all cockiness and wild dreams, feeling unstoppable and like a world leader. One who had yet to experience the real challenges life had in store for him, but who thought a simple game was the most challenging thing in his life. He could hear his mother cheering from the bleachers at practice, always rooting for him.

He had got this.

Harvey threw the object with all the force he possessed, as far away as he could, making it land on the other side of the hallway.

The sound spurred Gallo to look in the same direction, craning his neck to monitor any movement.

"What was that?" Rachel murmured to herself.

"Holy shit," Mike cursed under his breath, throwing a glance at the corridor, before wincing again in pain.

Gallo looked delighted with his intuition paying off. "Saved by the bell, Ross." He retracted the gun, letting it rest against his side. "Looks like your buddy Harvey gave away his position himself." He smiled down at him, before sprinting down the hallway to look for his actual target.

The second the sound of the shooter's footsteps was far away, Harvey and Donna came out from under the desk. They encouraged the young woman who was with them to do the same, but she was adamant. Claire had heard the shooter was looking for a certain Harvey Specter, and she was unwilling to follow the man who had been introduced as Harvey just a few minutes ago. In one way, he and Donna understood her reasons perfectly.

They rushed to Mike's side as fast as lightning, but once they saw him, flat on the floor, both of them froze, not knowing what to do. They could hear Rachel's pleadings for Mike to not give up, to not leave her. Harvey ran a hand through his hair. "Shit," was the only thing he had the strength to mutter.

"What do we do? What do we do?" Donna — the one who usually had all the answers, a reference point for everyone around her — kept wondering out loud incessantly. The question was like a mantra on her lips.

"For the love of God, Harvey! Do something!" Rachel called him out of his daze. He didn't know why, of all people, she would ask _him _for help. He was a trainwreck and the most clueless by far.

Regardless of how useless he felt, Rachel's tears forced Harvey to gather himself up and get a grip. He approached Mike, Donna following behind him, and he got down on his knees to inspect his friend's injury more closely Even if it didn't feel like he was doing much, he was trying anyway. The first thing they appreciated was that he was bleeding way less than Benjamin had, which could only be a good thing. Or not, maybe he was bleeding internally. They didn't know, they were hardly competent. At least the wound was in a considerably less dangerous spot, and it seemed to not have touched any main arteries or veins, given that the hemorrhage appeared to be contained.

Donna tried to access the information she had acquired at their annual first aid course. It was there, tucked in that corner of her mind, not in plain sight, but nonetheless accessible. She snapped her fingers thrice, recollecting the main points of timely intervention. "I think we should turn him on his side," she recalled, although she didn't sound too convinced.

"Are you crazy?" Rachel said, "We can't move him, we may make it worse," she argued.

"We have to check if the bullet is still inside. Plus, it's not like he was hit in the spine," she countered, still waiting for a nod from Rachel before doing anything.

The young woman was torn. She wanted what was best for her fiancè, but she was scared shitless of causing him even more pain. They still didn't know the extent of his injuries, and maybe what was intended as caring assistance, could turn into an irreversible tragedy. Rachel threw Donna a weak look, and her friend mirrored one herself. She knew it wasn't a matter of trust in her advice or judgment, but her fear of losing the love of her life. It didn't matter that it had been the all-knowing Donna to suggest it, she still needed time. Unfortunately, they didn't have any.

Donna grabbed her friend's trembling hand, securing it into her own. "I do believe it's the right thing to do. And besides, we can't stay here forever, Gallo is going to be back once he figures out that was a trap."

She was right, Rachel thought. Of course, she was. She gave her permission with a quick and doubtful nod.

"Mike, try to stay still. Can you do that?" Harvey asked his friend, who was responsive and awake.

"It's not like I have much of a choice," Mike quipped, trying to adjust while Harvey rolled him on his side. Donna bowed her head and got a closer look at the bruise on the opposite side of Mike's shoulder. "There's an entry wound and an exit wound. That's good."

"Is it?" Rachel asked nervously, fidgeting with her fingers. Worry and apprehension were already signing her delicate features, rippling the soft skin of her forehead, forming a frown.

"It is."

Harvey addressed Mike, patting his good shoulder. "You're going to be just fine."

Mike responded by widening his eyes, the assurance hitting a little too close to home. He had told the same thing to Benjamin before he passed away, and he certainly didn't want to suffer the same fate.

Harvey sensed his reluctance. "For real. I'm afraid we won't get rid of you that easily," he tried to lighten the mood with a joke, but he was fighting hard to keep his agitation at bay.

"You can bet your ass," Mike chuckled, emitting an _ouch _afterward. Maybe it was best if he just stuck to breathing in and out.

"Okay," Harvey got up the floor. "We need to move him somewhere else before Gallo comes back here to continue where he left off. We need a safe place, where we can treat him without drawing too much attention to ourselves."

"The library, maybe," Rachel suggested. "I mean, it's got no glass doors, so that's a start."

"Yes, good idea," Donna agreed with her friend, stroking Rachel's forearm in a soothing manner.

"Donna, help me pick him up. Rachel, you call Jessica. Tell her where we're headed and to bring backup."

* * *

Entering the apparently deserted library, the stale smell of musty books met Mike's nostrils. Normally, the common space would bring a nice feeling of comfort and peace of mind, being a sanctuary to which he is accustomed to, spending many late nights at the firm working over cases. But this was an utterly different scenario, one where he had to seek refuge in the sanctity of the place, not because the bullpen was too noisy, but because he had to hide from a shooter.

The whole transportation had been trickier than expected. Mike was skinny, and that obviously worked in their favor, but the emotional load they had to deal with exponentially increased the weight they were carrying. Plus, having Gallo hot on their heels only fueled their desire to hurry up. Sometimes, when they felt like Mike's limp body was slipping from their grasp, they jolted it back up, and the sudden shift caused acute pain to travel up his arm. Mike willed himself to be tough and not whine if he could help it. He didn't feel like it was justified, considering that his injury wasn't that bad after all. However, his nerves felt like they were on fire, and that was becoming increasingly hard to ignore.

Harvey and Rachel took turns to watch the door, while Donna bent over backward to help Mike settle down, as she seemed to be the only one to remember the basics of first aid. They placed him on a table, stripped him out of his now dirty dress shirt, and tucked it between the juncture of his neck and his shoulder. He felt naked, exposed, like the frogs you dissect and to use as a test subject during Science class.

Mike's teeth began chattering. As soon as Donna sensed it, she took Harvey's jacket from where it was lying over the back of a chair and wrapped his upper body in it. "Better?" she wanted to make sure, tucking the sleeves under his back.

Mike nodded his head in gratefulness. "You'd be an amazing mom. Already a pro at bedtime."

Donna visibly tensed at Mike's innocent joke, feeling that unpleasant sense of exposure taking over. Her friend didn't seem to notice, too busy trying to stop his body from trembling. "Although I don't think Harvey would appreciate knowing his precious jacket got soiled with blood."

"I don't know. I mean, he seemed pretty determined to save your life. He even had the courtesy of driving Gallo away."

"Now that you mention it, how did he do it?"

"I believe he had a revelation when he saw a stapler. He threw it so the noise would distract Gallo. I may even say he was inspired by you."

"No way. He's such a softie." Mike chuckled amused, and a little touched as well.

"Yeah, he is," Donna whispered to herself. She felt her mood change drastically, a sense of unease building in the pit of her stomach. Today, Harvey had been nothing but supportive, attentive, responsible, and he took care of _them_ like he had never before. Even if he was still oblivious to the existence of a '_them'._ It had erased all possible doubt about how he felt towards her, baby or no baby, and she couldn't wait to finally give them a chance to be happy. Together.

Her stream of thoughts was interrupted by the sound of Mike's teeth chattering. He was cold again, lightheaded and now a little pale from the blood he had lost. Even with all of that, he still couldn't help but notice how Donna's face lacked color so much more than his.

"Are you ok?"

Donna bit her lip. "Yes." Her lips curved upwards just a little.

"Why don't you sound so—" he stopped when she gripped the edge of the desk, slightly leaning against it. Mike's worry grew exponentially. Maybe she had been harmed by the rebound of the bullet that had hit him, and she was only noticing it just now. "That's it. I'm calling Harvey," he announced, propping himself on his good elbow. "You could be hurt."

"Mike." She reached for him, forcing him to make eye-contact.

Mike had always admired Donna, being the woman that she was, being the friend and hard worker that she was, it was just effortless praising her persona. But he swore he had never seen so much confidence and resoluteness in her gaze before.

"I am not hurt. It's just nausea," she said, avoiding his inquisitorial gaze.

Mike couldn't quite get what she was saying. But after a few seconds, revisiting the information she had just given away, and focusing on the way her hand gently stroked her belly, he put two and two together. She didn't specifically tell him she was expecting, nor did she have the intention to, but in that moment, it felt like an unspoken conversation. A look of understanding transpired between the two, and Mike stopped questioning her state.

While Harvey was keeping a vigilant eye at the door, Rachel paced back and forth in front of two bookshelves. She nervously chewed on her lip, occasionally biting her nails, a habit she seemed to go back to every time she was nervous. Her cellphone was sandwiched between her shoulder and her ear, as she walked the police through everything that had happened in the last fifteen minutes. Apparently, they were almost done clearing the floors beneath them, and ready to come to their rescue. A nice male officer informed her they had found Claire, the woman they had left hiding in front of Rachel's office, and she had been escorted out of the building completely safe. Rachel couldn't help but feel a little envious of the girl's luck, finally able to enjoy her freedom, while her own boyfriend was bleeding on a research table. However, she tried to stay positive, relying on the fact that he wasn't fatally injured and that help was on the way.

"What did they say?" Harvey asked the brunette the moment she got off the phone. He didn't fully turn his attention to her, mainly directing it to the hall he was supposed to monitor.

She sighed. "Still no sign of Frank Gallo. It's like he has vanished into thin air."

"More like that bastard is taking the coward way out," he mused.

Rachel got quiet, and the silence encouraged Harvey to glance at her. Her eyesight dropped constantly on Mike, but it never actually rested there for more than a couple of seconds. Harvey was familiar with that — caring so much for someone, but not having the courage to see them suffer. He suddenly felt sorry for the young woman, maybe even more than for his friend. After all, Mike's physical scar would certainly heal faster than Rachel's emotional one.

"I'm sorry," Harvey caught her attention, clearing his throat. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry he got hurt because of me."

"No, Harvey," Rachel shook her head vigorously. "You shouldn't blame yourself for someone else's reprehensible life choices. I know I won't." She forced a patient smile. "And neither will Mike."

Harvey and Rachel had somehow always been present in each other's lives, in one way or another. They had made small talk a few times over the years, but there was always something that didn't sit quite right. Something always seemed to hold them back, maybe some kind of superiority from Harvey's side, or some kind of timorous respect from Rachel's. Of course, communication between them had gotten better over the years, mostly with the help of Mike's arrival in their lives and Donna's close friendship, but they had never had such an open conversation before. In that moment there was an honesty, a rawness, very unfamiliar to him, and he suddenly felt the urgent need to drop his gaze to the floor. He had become sheepish, timid even. Rachel smiled sincerely with a hint of pride.

Another quiet moment passed between the two.

"This silence gives me the creeps," Rachel commented, quickly stroking her forearms up and down to smooth over her goosebumps. He doubted that her shuddering had anything to do with the air conditioning, but didn't comment on it. "Do you think he's here?" She asked, not knowing if she really wanted an honest answer.

Harvey took a moment to think about it, momentarily diverting his attention from the supervision of the hallway. "No, no one's here." He shrugged.

His ultimate and unwavering statement was disproved a second later. As soon as the words traveled out of his mouth, the door slammed open without warning, and he came face to face with Louis. The first to let out an unusual high-pitched scream was Harvey, immediately taking a step back. The bald man yelped, throwing himself on the ground and covering his head with both hands.

"Don't shoot! For the love of God, don't shoot! I have a family!" He begged on his knees for mercy. "Shoot them, not me!" He motioned to Jessica and Stu, standing just behind him.

"Damn it, Louis!" Harvey blurted out, his heart still racing from the previous scare. "What were you thinking?"

"Yeah," Jessica intervened, "What were you thinking? _Shoot them, don't shoot me?" _Her eyebrow shot dangerously close to her forehead, while mocking Louis' previous statement with disgust. She just couldn't decide if she was more amused or pissed.

"Do you really have a family? Aren't you single?" Stu wondered with a hint of jest as well.

"Is it _really _the moment to talk about my questionable love life?" Louis pretended to be burnt by Stu's word, purposely ignoring Jessica's question. He already envisioned how _that _conversation would go, and decided to postpone it for as long as possible, giving he was already into a cold sweat.

"Well, announce yourself next time!" Rachel told him, as he stood up again.

"What was I supposed to say? _Hi, I'm Louis. I'm opening the door. Don't be afraid!"_

"That would have been much appreciated."

"Guys!" Donna called from the back of the room, clearly struggling with keeping Mike's bleeding under control with just his dress shirt. "Can you have this conversation another time, and help me the hell out?!"

"Did you get it?" Harvey turned to Jessica.

She held up a small case, and Harvey led them to Mike. At the sight of the amount of blood — so much more than when you cut your finger — Louis began feeling odd. He was suddenly lightheaded, his stomach turned upside down, and there was a strange tension in his jaw. His vision filled with white and grey dots, so he blinked a few times. The lawyer tried to loosen his expensive tie, choking out an "_I don't feel really good",_ before collapsing to the ground.

Harvey threw his hands up in the air, "Of course, he had to faint right now."

"I'm on it," Jessica insisted, glad to help in a way that didn't involve watching Donna's hands inspecting Mike's humerus. Helped by Rachel, she started to nudge Louis' shoulder, and then slapped his cheeks slightly when nothing else seemed to help.

Stu opened the briefcase and handed Donna a few items. She cautiously treated the wound, disinfecting it as much as the conditions permitted, and promptly dabbed the hemorrhage. She tried her best to be as gentle as possible. Despite that, her actions spurred some whines and moans from the man under her, albeit her featherlight yet intrusive ministrations. Eventually, after a few minutes, the bleeding started to subside, and that by all accounts had to be a good sign. She could use a few hands to tie the temporary bandage, and that's when Harvey and Stu came in. Thinking she couldn't do anything else for him, Donna, pleased with how she had handled the situation, flopped onto the chair behind her. A content sigh left her lips.

Harvey looked at her in awe. The woman had always been skilled in everything she got herself into, never leaving him disappointed with her performance. But this time she had left him speechless. Truly. Even if she had just been limited to pour a full bottle antiseptic on Mike's shoulder, and put pressure on the wound until it stopped the bleeding, she had done it with such attention and dedication. He wouldn't have known what to do with his stupid trembling hands. He had probably never been more proud of her, handling such a tough situation with grace and accuracy.

Harvey wiped Donna's damp forehead with tenderness, and something else in his eyes — love maybe — which was the main reason she didn't retract. Instead, she leaned into his amorous touch and closed her eyes to rest a little.

"I'm here!" Louis came to his senses, emerging from the floor. "I'm all good now."

"Yes, Louis what a safe."

Jessica's phone chiming followed Mike's feeble repartee. She quickly answered the call and after a few seconds her face broke out into a wide smile. "The SWAT team is on this floor," she joyously announced.

Donna got up from the chair, a rush of excitement prompting her up and making her stride across the room. She stopped in the middle, "Did you hear that, Harvey? It's over!" She exclaimed in disbelief.

Harvey's face fell so quickly, she swore she didn't even have time to watch his expression morph.

"Donna, don't move," he said, with an urgency that made her blood freeze into her veins.

Of course, that was the worst thing Harvey could have said at that moment. The redhead involuntarily turned around, now coming face to face with the barrel of a gun.

"Not so fast," Frank Gallo said.

* * *

**Oh wow, look at her with another cliffhanger. What can I say? I just hope you'll stay tuned. Lots of love. **


	10. Chapter 10

**Soo, the moment has come. This is a fairly focal chapter and I just wish you'll feel exactly what I want you to feel. Which is mainly tension :)**

**Somewhere at the end, you may notice that a couple of Harvey's lines are taken from what he said to Sean Cahill in 9x08. I just thought it was a perfect fit! **

**A big thank you to everyone that keeps supporting me and especially to Stephanie, who has always the right words and advices for me!**

**Just read and drop a review to tell me what you think. It's my favorite part of it all!**

**(For anyone who might be interested, the title of this chapter ****means "the die has been cast ". Julius Caesar said it when he led his army across the rubicon river in Italy. It means things that have happened can't be changed back. :) Just blessing you with some latin and italian history.)**

**G-**

**Chapter 10: A****lea iacta est**

"Don't move," Frank Gallo waved the gun between the crowd, who instinctively raised their quivering hands in the air in a gesture of surrender. "Don't you dare to move or I'll plant a bullet through your head as well."

A few muffled screams and gasps could be heard across the room, but every sound faded away in comparison to the deafening ringing in Donna's ears.

Everyone's life was at stake at that moment, Gallo had them at the sharp end of the knife — more at the barrel of the gun — but Donna was really the only one within reach. Her body was the closest to the weapon, and she could feel its proximity, as well as the clanging of the metal object shifting in the man's hands. It would only take one brief flick of his index finger, and a bullet would split her chest in two. She had never, in her entire life, been so close to the concept of death, and in her, luckily brief, experience with grief, she had always been the one to do the mourning. She wasn't sure she was ready for the other way around.

Donna had always been a pragmatic woman. She had never lost herself into thinking about heaven or hell, or whatever form of afterlife there could be, but now the prospect of the unknown left her breathless.

Her colleagues were rooted to their spots when in reality their instincts encouraged them to run. But they didn't move, too scared to have a proper reaction, and subconsciously taking advantage of the fact that it was Donna in Gallo's crosshairs.

The same didn't apply for Harvey though, whose first instinct was to step to the redhead's side, as he slowly attempted to shield her behind him. Slowly. Too slowly for his liking, but the last thing he wanted was to startle Gallo.

He had always deemed that the prowess of a lawyer consisted in finding a way out, no matter the circumstances. The best closer in New York City had years to improve his alluring and manipulative techniques, polishing his skills until he assumed everything always worked in his favor. And as much as having confidence in spades had helped him on his way to the top, now bluffing and trying to turn the table seemed useless.

In the end, when someone really points a gun at you there aren't a hundred and forty-six other things you can do. He was quick to realize there were no forty-six other things when Donna was at risk. There was no digging his way out of that hole, and he had to come to terms with the fact that what he had preached all these years was all a big pile of bullshit — very endearing words that were unpractical at the very least.

Harvey felt like an asshole.

Clueless when Donna needed him the most, he felt the power of keeping her safe, no matter what, slipping away from his grasp. All he could do was stalling and waiting for the police to arrive. He just hoped that an egoistic sociopath like Frank Gallo would be open to talking about his desire for revenge as long as possible; eventually, that would buy them some time.

"All's well that ends well." The shooter smiled sneeringly, taking a few steps forward. "We meet at last, don't we, Specter?" A grin nourished by sick amusement grew on his thin lips.

Harvey stayed quiet, but his hands balled into fists at his sides. His knuckles turned white.

"What? Cat got your tongue?" he provoked him some more, for good measure. "You're not that bold anymore when there aren't guards around. Is that right?"

Harvey didn't know how he should lead the game, whether to react to these taunts or not. He couldn't risk enraging the armed man any further by arguing with him, but ignoring him seemed to be having the same effect. And maybe, if he really wanted a fight, the best choice is to give it to him. And Frank Gallo seemed to be pleading for it.

"Might be." Harvey shrugged. "But again, it doesn't seem like you holding a gun makes us even."

"Neither was me on the other side of the barbed wire," he retorted.

"What do you want, Gallo?" Harvey cut to the chase, avoiding unnerving his enemy any further. Although nothing stopped him from lacing the question with stark hatred and disdain, already bothered by the restraint imposed by his rationalism.

Gallo erupted in a hysterical laugh, seeming extremely amused by the simple inquiry. Harvey cursed himself for having asked something with such a blatant answer.

"And here I thought you were a little more clever than that," the older man derided him. "You owe me thirteen years. I'm gonna collect," he added, tightening the grip on the gun to clarify the concept.

His intentions were as clear as day, and Harvey, still determined to help the people who got caught in the crossfire because of him, tried a desperate attempt. "You're right. I owe you, not them. We can continue this conversation in private." He brought the spotlight on himself. He wasn't trying to be the hero. Finding glory in reckless actions, fulfilling his need to feel good about himself and being admired by everyone were the last things on his mind. He may have the fame of being the one who always saves the day, but right now, the only thing he wanted to save were the people he cared about.

"Right, so they can go and expose me."

"You have no way out anyway. They're going to catch you, whether you kill me or not."

"Oh, dear Harvey, I don't think I'm going to do that." Gallo tilted his head, shaking off any assumption Harvey had made before. "Well, I am. But if I kill you now, where would be the fun in that?" He threw Harvey a cryptic smile. "You didn't just deprive me of my freedom, and then screwed me over and over again. You enjoyed watching me squirm when you puffed out your five thousand dollars suited chest. You're so full of yourself, that the only thing that would give me true satisfaction would be seeing you beg on your knees," he added, his voice oozing with contempt and disgust.

Harvey understood that Frank Gallo wasn't seeking out simple payback. If his only intent was to kill him, he might as well have done it in some dark backstreet at night, where there wouldn't have been any witnesses and he would have gotten away with it. Instead, this was a well-planned vendetta, thoroughly studied, aimed to strike close to home. Gallo didn't just want to hurt him, he wanted to blindside him and the people he cared about, in the one place where he felt powerful and safe. Gallo craved to throw him off his game and see him sweat. Well, that was going pretty well so far.

"I had actually a lot of time to think about it, all by myself in isolation, and then it hit me. The answer to all my problems was right under our noses."

Like a lion hunting its prey, Gallo's withering stare scanned the room to land on Donna. Her stomach flipped as the gunman addressed her for the very first time. He had thrown around general threats and intimidations, had even had a broad conversation with Harvey, but the intensity of his probing stare was burning a hole into her skin and sending a chill down her spine at the same time. He had that power over her, and she hated how vulnerable and helpless he made her feel.

Her anxiety levels spiked up, making her brain miss a vital connection: if Frank Gallo was choosing her as his winning horse, that meant she was Harvey's weak spot. She wondered if Gallo knew she was pregnant, and was willing to use the information as a trump card. In a different context, that would have made her heart flutter, but right now, the only thing on her mind was how much more inclined Harvey was to do something stupid.

Harvey turned towards Donna, who had been stubbornly attached to his side the whole time. He willed himself to not look at her with pleading and desperate eyes, averse to the idea of letting Gallo know that she truly was his weakness. He'd be damned if the man dared to use her against him. Mainly because he could look after himself, but he wasn't sure he could think straight when it came to her.

"What? My secretary?" He played it off. He wished he'd miss the flash of hurt and disappointment on Donna's face, who seemed to be unable to see through his made-up facade. She had to be assuming she was just that to him — a secretary.

She can't possibly believe that, Harvey thought. How could she be so blind, after all, they'd been through, and not see that she was his everything?

And part of her clung to the hope of a misunderstanding, to the deep and blind faith she had in him, to the confidence in the fact that what she felt couldn't be one-sided. Those late-nights sharing drinks, goals, wins, and losses meant something, had always meant something, and she knew it.

At that point, Donna just hoped Harvey knew what he was doing.

Unfortunately, though, Gallo seemed the only one to question his bluffing abilities. The lawyer himself had to admit that, for a degenerate gambler, he was doing a poor job at this game of supremacy. "Come on, Harvey. Don't play this game," Gallo nudged him, spelling loud and clear that he wasn't fooling anybody. "You might have liked using this boss-secretary role play to bang her—"

At those words, Harvey couldn't help himself and took a reckless step forward. Jaw and fist clenched were the recipe for a fight, and Harvey cursed his inability of keeping it together and act impulsively. As a matter of fact, the move put Gallo on high alert, spurring him to take the offense.

While Harvey went to lunge forward, Gallo leveled the gun to him and grabbed Donna's arm violently, twisting it behind her back. He dragged them backward, as she unwillingly obliged, crying out as the man tightened the already painful grasp.

"Back off!" Gallo shouted warningly, pressing the gun against Donna's temple. Her eyes closed as the cold metal made contact with her flushed skin, and a shiver ran down her back and forearms.

"Get your filthy hands off her!" Harvey menaced, but desperation and worry were clearly discernible in his apparent lividness, and he hated himself for it. He didn't shy away this time, not wasting a second minding the words he was using or his tone. The prospect of Donna getting hurt was so much scarier than any tantrum Gallo may pull off. "If you as much as harm a hair on her head, I promise you, my face will be the last thing you see before you die."

The vein on Harvey's neck was throbbing violently, as he spat the harsh, but very much true, words out of his mouth. Gallo didn't wonder for a second if that was an empty threat, because he knew for sure it wasn't. He could see it his eyes, the madness, and the misery, that mixed together brought every man to the brink of sanity.

Harvey was known, from friends to enemies, as a man who didn't back down for a fight. Sure, he often preferred just wiping the floor with his adversaries' asses before even getting to the real fight. But that didn't mean he couldn't face one if it came.

This time, though, there was an urgency, a newfound energy and vigor in his attitude, that left everyone dumbstruck. It was Harvey like no one had seen him before. But again, they had never seen Harvey fighting for love.

Frank Gallo knew that, and he was enjoying pushing his buttons an awful lot. Spurring a reaction out of him was just what he had planned all along.

"Right, secretary, huh?" He threw his head back, breaking into a belly laugh. "It's alright, Harvey. I'm pretty sure everyone here knows that it goes deeper. Doesn't it?"

The gunman turned his attention back to Donna, pressing the weapon further to her head. "So maybe I should kill her first, or maybe… if you beg me to spare her life, I might change my mind and end just your miserable one."

"Harvey—" she managed to choke out, despite a constricted throat and the sudden feeling of the words dying on her tongue.

"Come on, Harvey, you won't sacrifice yourself, even considering her condition?"

Time stood still. Donna's blood rushed to her ears, as a deafening silence spread across the room. If it wouldn't have made the whole situation even worse, she would have let her weak legs give up, and fall to her knees right then and there.

"What?"

What condition?

Harvey knotted his eyebrows, looking intently at Donna, maybe hoping to get an answer out of her. He had no idea what Gallo wanted to tell him with that statement. As far as he was concerned, Donna had never shown any sign that something was off. And yes, maybe he hadn't been that attentive in the last couple of months, but he liked to think that if there was something bothering her, she would have been the one to come to him.

At this point, he didn't know how likely that was.

"Alright, either you are in such a strong state of denial, or—" Gallo craned his neck, observing that the woman who had been squirming under his touch the whole time, had now stopped fighting. He couldn't meet her eyes since she had her gaze fixated on the ground as if she was trying to bury a hole on the floor and let it swallow her whole. Even when the gun was pointed at her, she had managed to keep her composure somehow, but now... now she just looked guilty and uncomfortable. "You haven't told him yet, have you?" A grin appeared on his face.

"Tell me what?" Harvey directed the question at Donna, wanting to hear whatever it was about from her and only her. The woman, though, didn't even dare to look him in the eyes.

"Donna, tell me what?" he repeated, more adamant and louder this time. His head whipped from Donna to Gallo, visibly flustered and waiting for a response from either of them, at this point.

"Harvey, he's playing with you, don't you see it?"

"Oh, this is so much better than I expected."

"Stop it," Donna plead Gallo, but it was barely audible. For the first time in her life, she was afraid to speak up.

"Come on, Donna. Specter is a son of a bitch, but I still think he has the right to know—"

"Shut your mouth," she said, increasing the tone of her voice.

"He's about to be a d—"

"SHUT UP!" She yelled.

Complete and utter silence filled the room for the very first time since they had bought Mike in. No one dared to speak, no one dared to move, or even breathe. Everything had been put on pause. Time seemed to stand still, except for the cruel ticking of the clock hanging on the wall, signaling that seconds were passing indeed.

In that rare and cherished moment of quietness, it seemed like a truce had been called. After all, they had reached a point where it felt more like a war of all against all. It was hard to discern your enemies from your allies, considering that everyone, some more, some less, was subconsciously thinking about saving their own skin. The people you deemed to know, as time went on, began to show a completely different side of the coin.

In this whirlwind of chaos and emotional turmoil, a thing was certain to everyone: whatever secret Donna was keeping for herself was making her so vulnerable that it made her paradoxically even stronger. And her completely spontaneous outburst had been the striking proof of that.

Gallo didn't appreciate the change of heart very much, not having considered that playing with fire could end up in getting himself burned. Sensing the lack of obedience and cooperation in Donna's attitude, and not liking the idea of losing control over her, Gallo began yanking her violently in his tight embrace.

At the sight, Harvey felt as if it was him trapped in a choking device. "Let her go, or I swear to God—"

"You are in no position to make demands," Gallo reminded him, before turning his attention to Donna once again. "Someone here has got a temper." He had recovered from the first shock caused by her unexpected wrath and was now almost entertained by the spicy redhead. "Alright, I respect that. So, Specter, time to review our earlier conversation. What do you want to do? It's your choice."

"Harvey, don't even think about it." The warning left her lips with confidence, but there was a perceptible waver in her voice that caused him to react without thinking, as he lashed out at her.

"Donna, stay out of it!" He didn't even feel bad about it, because giving up his life was preferable than seeing the moisture and fear gathering in her hazel eyes.

"Harvey," Jessica's hardly convincing protest hung in the air.

"Harvey, wait!" Mike's words didn't even reach his ears. Harvey's focus was solely set on Donna, as a tear left a wet trail on her cheek on its way down.

"It was never a choice," he said directly to Donna, shrugging slightly in the gut-wrenching proof that he was at peace with his decision.

Trying to convince her was pointless, though, because her gift of cracking people wide open made her perceive little details no one would have seen — the droplets of sweat on his forehead, his trembling hands, his labored breath. But there was something, something clearly visible — tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.

Donna had seen Harvey's brown eyes glistening just a handful of times, like when his father had died. In thirteen years, though, a tear never actually streamed down his cheeks. This time, Harvey was actually weeping, but again, he had never been this close to death.

She looked at him pleadingly, but his decision was made.

Harvey took the first tentative step forward, ready to offer himself as the lamb for slaughter. Gallo did not see any point in keeping his hands busy with the woman who was merely expendable, at least not now that he was getting who he really came there for. The man let go of the woman who had served as his bait, whacking the gun against her head and then knocking her on the floor without any regard.

"Donna!" Before Harvey could make a move to help her, Gallo trained the offending weapon towards his chest, forcing him into stillness.

"Nope, keep walking towards me," he coaxed him. Harvey struggled with his irreprehensible need of hunching down to her, waiting for a sign to do so without triggering the shooter's wrath. The sign never came, though, as he realized that following the orders was the best option. He had never been one to bend at other people's wishes, always preferring to play by his own rules, but he was quick to realize that this time there was no such possibility. He put his ego aside and kept walking toward Gallo, stopping just a few inches from where he was standing. "Good. Now, admit what a piece of shit you are," he demanded with authority.

The gunman's eyes lit with excitement and enthusiasm, when Donna, still helpless on the floor, couldn't chew her sentiment anymore, "Gallo, if you dare to touch him in any way—"

"Shut the fuck up! Did I not make myself clear? What I said about demands applies to you too," he bellowed. "How does it feel, Harvey? To be on the receiving end for once? Guess what? I'm calling the shots now," he spat out, his voice oozing with contempt and disgust, as he let the barrel of the gun making contact with Harvey's dress shirt to underline the concept. The poignant gesture left Harvey breathless, before Gallo drew backward, distancing himself once again, cocking the hammer.

Harvey had downright believed in that stream of memories that were supposed to make you relive your entire life, but honestly, it was difficult to navigate through the hundreds of emotions that circled inside his head. As he tried to make sense of what were supposed to be the last moments of his life, he hoped on some kind of epiphany, something to show him a decent way to leave this earth or a miraculous way out.

Tearing his frazzled eyes from Gallo's blazing ones, Harvey's breath got caught in disbelief. Behind the man's back, in the background, he could spy what seemed like a mirage — several SWAT officers crawling their way towards their bounty. He willed himself to not stare at his saviors too intently, not willing to startle Gallo and let him run away, or worse, open fire. The man on the front line motioned him to not make any sudden moves, raising his finger to his lips, gesturing for silence. If there was something Harvey was sick and tired of was waiting, god, he wanted to shout from the rooftops that help had finally arrived. But the element of surprise was crucial in this case, and they had all waited already so long, that a stupid move from him couldn't cost them everything.

Harvey darted his gaze back to Gallo, whose smugness and patronizing attitude oozed from all pores. At that moment he decided he had had enough. He would have accepted going down for all the ambiguous things he had done in his career, but not for the delusions of grandeur of this sociopath.

It was now or never.

"Yes, I may be a piece of shit who only cares about himself. But everything I did was to get a man who never hurt a soul away from a convicted murderer. And let me tell you something else, my whole life I have always done what I think is right, but there's always someone somewhere that hates me for it. Well, everything I've done, I'd do it again. Because I'm fine with what's in my soul. Can't say the same for you, though."

Gallo's posture had straightened visibly, Harvey had definitely hit a nerve. Even if Frank thought he wasn't displaying his emotions, the lawyer knew that everyone, deep down, wore their heart on their sleeve, he just had to find the right buttons to push. He read people for a living, and Frank Gallo was just a miserable reject of society.

As the police slowly approached Gallo, Donna stumbled to get back on her unsteady feet. Worried by the outcome of Harvey's pungent words, she deliberately leveled herself next to him.

"You know, deep down, that what you're doing is wrong. And maybe telling yourself that some sort of revenge will fill the emptiness you feel inside, but the truth is that you're never going to make peace with your conscience. You can fool yourself as much as you want, but you can't fool me. I see right through you, Gallo. You know you're never going to get away with it."

The end of Harvey's monologue was met with chilling silence. No one dared to move, except for Gallo, who raised the gun and pointed it directly at Harvey's chest.

He looked at his enemy with his glacial eyes, void of any emotion except for pure and stark hatred. "Time's up," he declared, pulling the trigger.

For Harvey, everything happened in a fraction of a second. Time seemed to be slipping away like sand from his fingertips, too quickly for him or anyone to avoid the tragedy.

For Donna, though, everything happened in slow motion. She could process with clarity what was about to follow, and had enough time to make a decision — an impulsive decision, given that her body moved by its own accord.

_I would take a bullet for you, and I don't mean that literally._

Donna jumped in front of Harvey and took the bullet for him, this time literally.

It was the ultimate sacrifice.

* * *

**And so, that happened.. Having Donna make this big sacrifice for Harvey was mainly the whole point of this story. As you've probably understood by the title. Of course, there's still sooo much to tell, and I hope you'll keep putting up with my cliffhangers :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**First things first: I'm utterly overwhelmed by your response to last chapter ( it seems like you're more participating when bad things happen :))**

**We're venturing into what was one of the most difficult chapters to write.. definitely the longest. And although my own beta already hates me (although I keep loving her for being such a great supporter) I hope you won't hate me too much.**

**Let's close an eye on the whole choice of SWAT's weapons and medical records, because, even though I've done my research, I'm not an expert :)**

**G-**

**Chapter 11: Bellyache**

When Donna had first moved to New York, she used to spend Sunday nights binge watching a trashy tv-show about disaster survivors. One night, sinking the spoon several times in her beloved Chunky-Monkey, she had listened with curiosity to the reports of a bunch of people who had been caught in the crossfire of a mass shooting. The woman on the screen had been disclosing what was considered a common truth: when a bullet hit you, you didn't suffer.

Bullshit.

It hurt. Lord knew if it hurt. The kind of hurt that made it difficult to breathe, move, or even think. But what was different from any other kind of pain, was the trauma to her system. It was the major impact that hazed her judgment and overshadowed the stark, physical pain.

Harvey cushioned Donna's fall once her legs had given up. He crunched beside her on the floor, observing as the blood almost fled her chest. It seeped everywhere, mingling with her dress and sticking it to her sensitive skin. Harvey's mind drifted to Donna's hate whenever one of her designed dresses got dirty.

The sergeant of the SWAT unit would have rather waited until the aggressor had been enclosed on both sides, but to avoid any more harmed people he had to move the squad fast.

"Cover for me," he whispered to the agent to his right, who promptly began shooting at the ceiling.

"Don't move! Put the gun down!" The sergeant warned Gallo, aiming his M16 for good measure.

The gunman tried to shoot a few more times, but not a single blow went through. In a matter of seconds, three officers launched themselves at him, pinning him to the ground.

"I've got him! Block him! I'm disarming him!" One of them yelled.

"She needs medical attention!" A tall man said, pointing at Donna's body violently shaking on the floor.

Harvey kept pressing on Donna's chest so hard as if his own life depended on it. And in a way, it was exactly like that. He began rambling almost incoherently, her name like a prayer on his lips. Harvey had never prayed in his life, but he would have sold his soul to any god to save her life.

"Come on, Donna, please… please, please," he repeated in an endless pattern.

"You can't leave me. Do you understand? You don't get to leave me, Donna." Harvey's heart thumped hard against his rib cage, as it was trying to work for two, and his breathing sped up, almost afraid that, if it stopped, hers would as well.

Donna was beginning to doze off, given that it was becoming increasingly difficult to stay focused, as a cloud of fog engulfed her vision. Ironically, she could see his haunted and defeated eyes with stark clarity, as they spilled a pool of tears. The sobs wracked Harvey's body vehemently, while he held her close and cradled them back and forward. The primal, guttural sounds that escaped his throat were like a stab to Donna's stomach.

"Donna, stay awake," he shook her body, and Donna supposed her heavy eyelids were shutting down. "Stay awake!"

She wanted to reassure him, tell him she was there with him, that she could do it. Instead, she found herself saying in chocked syllables, "Keep me awake."

"I'm getting you out of here. Yes, I am. And— and we're going to be happy, so happy together. Oh, Donna, you have no idea. I'll even let you pick the pizza with those stupid yellow tomatoes you like."

She couldn't help but laugh, as her body bent with aftershock pain.

"Sorry, sorry," Harvey murmured, and the sweetness of his tone — the one he reserved only for her — broke and soothed her heart in equal measure.

Donna didn't feel her eyes closing when Harvey pled her, "Keep your eyes open. We can't let that bastard win, right?"

"Right."

"You're amazing, Donna. You're not like anyone I've ever met before, and I'm sorry if I haven't said that enough. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Donna closed her eyes, but this time she didn't open them again.

"I love you," the words Harvey should have said centuries ago, now felt like a bucket of iced water. They hung in the air, because she wasn't conscious to hear and savor them. "I love you. You know that right? You know everything."

* * *

The waiting room was chilling cold. Harvey's shuddering was close to resembling seizures, resulting in the liquid inside his cup slipping dangerously close to the lid. His trembling hands were out of his control — like many things that day — and were threatening to spill the coffee all over his shirt. Not that he would mind right now, given that the beverage wasn't even hot anymore.

He had only agreed on getting one in order to not suffer through Jessica's complaints, whose only worry seemed to make sure he got something into his stomach.

Even without his objections, she should have known food was off the table right now. But, in all fairness, she had also witnessed him emptying the contents of his stomach not even half an hour ago, and her concern about him rehydrating was understandable. Opting for the soothing warmth of coffee seemed like the best option, but it was currently resulting in sending the bile back up Harvey's throat.

He hadn't had a panic attack in months, not since Donna had come back to his desk, anyway. She had been his trigger in the past and kept being his trigger in the present. His panic attacks had started the second she had told him she loved him — giving him a taste of his own medicine — and then walked away without looking back. There was such a blatant reason behind his anxiety and his erratic behavior, that he realized that the real issue wasn't that he couldn't access it, but that he could, and it was so disconcerting he decided to bury the truth. Because it was easier.

And if writing a couple of checks to his therapist, using other people as a punching bag, and making peace with Donna had been the solution last time, now it wasn't that easy. This wasn't about losing her to Louis, or any other man, but it was about losing her for good, and that's why it hurt more.

The moment the doctors wheeled her into the O.R. — telling him that they would try to remove the bullet and fix the aortic injury — could be easily considered the worst of his entire life. Because, for the first time since Gallo had taken the firm under siege, Harvey couldn't protect her. Not that he had been able to anyway — since she got shot — but the idea of him not being by her side was tormenting to say the least.

Approaching this surgery as an attempt to save Donna's life, as much as Harvey was concerned, meant that it was just a couple of hours and desperate measures before she actually lost it. Those doctors' eyes, watching him with pity and apology, were trying to convey the message that would have been too hard to hear — this was their Hail Mary, and they weren't even convinced it would work.

Once the adrenaline that had kept Harvey functioning all that time had worn off, the fatal reality began to sink in, and that's when his panic attack had kicked in.

It wasn't long before he recognized the classic symptoms — how every sound seemed muffled and distant, and how the air got knocked out of his lungs like someone was keeping him underwater. He was drowning in his own grief, and frankly, he was surprised the overdue anxiety hadn't paid him a visit sooner.

But this time something was different because his heart wasn't trying to escape his chest like it normally would, but it was aching, in the true sense of the word. It felt like someone had ripped it off its place and had started to squeeze it until it crushed. There was nothing poetic in what he was experiencing, and he was just worried he might collapse to the ground.

In a place filled with doctors who could actually assist him, the man's stubbornness won over, and he tried to venture on wobbly legs into the bathroom. He reached the nearest cubicle, where he was hoping to find some relief in the only, unhealthy, way he knew. But while he was gripping the ceramic edges of the shitty toilet, trying to take long and deep breaths and go through other bullshit techniques about sensing how the object feels underneath your hands, someone entered the bathroom, crying desperately.

The man barging into the room somehow managed to steal Harvey's attention. He prevented him from suffocating in his own anxiety, and, perhaps, making him feel like he wasn't the only one to have a dear one fighting between life and death. He was quick to realize that a public bathroom wasn't his office, where he could drown in the darkness of his feelings, and maybe it was time he'd get some freakin' help.

Jessica was surprised by how he let the doctors help him, allowing them to bless him with an oxygen mask and some tranquilizers.

But hours later, Harvey almost regretted not having the physical pain, one that he could numb rather easily. As soon as the initial shock wore off, that's when it really started to hurt. Alone with his thoughts and his thoughts only, he had no distraction to keep his mind from drifting constantly to Donna, sedated on an operating table.

Instead of fighting the instinct of opening google and risking a real heart attack reading about aortic dissections, he wished he had Mike to keep him grounded. But he was injured as well, so he was getting stitched up in the adjacent room. That brought a brand new set of emotions, guilt, and helplessness above it all.

Harvey watched as the last droplets of fluid flowed down his drip, inexorably slow as the hours that passed without any news about Donna — he sincerely didn't know whether that was a good or a bad thing.

A tall, dark-haired nurse proceeded to remove his I.V., and he made his way back to the waiting room, taking a seat between Jessica and Louis. He supposed that one of them would try to talk at one point or another, but a quick glance to Louis — who was tapping his foot on the floor repeatedly, frantically conveying through his body the whirlwind of emotions that were swimming in his head — made him recognize that maybe no one was up for talking.

The only person who would have known the right thing to say was Donna, and goddammit, how he wished she was there with him.

Harvey didn't know how to live in a world where Donna didn't, and frankly, he didn't want to find out. He had no idea where to begin because she had always been such a vital part of him — vital as the very air he breathed, as the very heart that beat in his chest.

In twelve years she had grown into being an extension of him, up to the point that he didn't know where he finished and she began. Many people had tried to warn him about this codependency, this attachment that had slowly made it impossible for him to act without having her approval. The process had been so subtle, yet so implacable and all-consuming, that Harvey had never fully understood it, at least not until now, when he caught himself wondering how the hell he was supposed to knot his tie or know at which time of the day it was socially acceptable to start drinking without her help.

It probably made him weak, because needing someone was the thing he had loathed for as long as he could remember, but Harvey hadn't realized that he had needed her this entire time.

Deep down, he had always known the concept of 'need' didn't merely apply to Donna's mastery at scheduling appointments and charming clients, but it applied to his whole being.

If he was half the man he was beginning to feel a little bit proud of as of today, he owed it to her. She had been the only one who called him out on his bullshit when it was required, and the only one who offered him a shoulder to cry on when he just needed to be comforted. Not that he had ever let anyone see him sweat, but she had always had this superior gift of knowing exactly what he needed, before he even needed it.

She had been his moral compass this entire time, never judging him, but always hoping he would find the strength to fight to be the best version of himself. She didn't change him, she just showed him the way to follow. Without her guidance he was blind.

And Harvey understood the concept of not going back to the spiral of blame and pity that came so natural to him, but this time it was different. Even if he couldn't bring himself to phantom the idea of losing her, he guessed that if he did, he wouldn't try to get back to whatever form of normal his life had. Because life without her made no sense. He didn't want to walk past her cubicle every morning without her greeting, or win big in poker without her teasing him about it, or, God forbid, having another woman that's not her wearing a wedding band and carry his children.

He resented her. Because she had ruined him for everything else, because every little aspect that made life worth living seemed just pure torture if he let himself dive into the prospect of not seeing her face, or hearing her voice ever again.

He was aware that he should see her heroic gesture only as remarkable, but he just saw it as unfair.

As irrational as it was, the only thing he could process clear feelings on was how she hadn't thought about him. And he knew, he really knew she had done it for him, but she hadn't considered what the outcome of her actions would do to him.

The truth was, his death would have been better than hers.

* * *

There were many kinds of lines in Harvey's life — some he'd crossed a lot of time ago, some he'd never even consider crossing, and some he'd liked to mess with.

Whether it was breaking a seemingly strict rule about dating coworkers, navigating through right and wrong, or playing in grey areas, Harvey had somehow tickled every possible scenario. Also, his years as a lawyer had given him plenty of occasions to fiddle with the already blurred line between legal and illegal.

But there was a very specific line Harvey never imagined would have such a strong impact on him — the one that separates where only the medical equipment is allowed from the waiting room of the hospital.

A fine, fine line, but the one that marked the crucial boundary between the place where life or death of the patients was established and the place where their dear ones awaited the response.

You could easily tell the ones who had received good news — with toothy smiles plastered across their faces and happy tears running down their cheeks — from the ones who were still processing the bad ones — disconnected from the outside and looking like they'd stopped fighting altogether.

But every time a man or a woman in scrubs entered the room, it was like all the differences leveled out and everyone held their breath in the same way.

Some doctors let on the result of their treatments even before opening their mouths, and if one of them had that tortured look on their face, you just had to pray they weren't there for you.

It had been two hours since Harvey last heard about Donna, a total of six hours since she had been taken to surgery.

He was busy pacing up and down the small gap between the plastic chairs of the waiting room when the surgeon that had previously spoken to him emerged from the other side of the damned line. He was one of the few that had no signature expression, and Harvey felt his heart in his throat as the middle-aged man's eyes scanned across the room and settled on him.

Harvey stopped dead in his tracks, thinking that if he could read this clinical look, maybe, just maybe, he would get to prepare himself for the life-changing news the doctor was about to deliver.

A moment. He just needed a moment—

The surgeon brought a hand to his pale-green scrub cap and removed it, revealing a head full of white hair. Harvey only hoped it was a sign of experience and not rusting. "Donna Paulsen's family?" he asked.

Was he? Donna's family?

"Yes," Harvey declared, not missing how the sentence left his lips with ease and a hint of pride. It wasn't a complete lie, and no one cared to venture into how many facets that word carried, but whatever way the doctor had meant, it just felt the right thing to say yes.

Louis and Jessica stood up, walking towards him and asking about Donna's state.

"Miss Paulsen was sent here with a gunshot wound. We had to deal with a hemothorax caused by an aortic rupture, and she had also lost a considerable amount of blood. We managed to remove the bullet, but her heart stopped beating for a few seconds."

Harvey's own heart stopped beating at those words as if he had been stabbed right there. A sharp, single, direct blow. He wasn't ready, he didn't want to hear the end of what the doctor had left to say. He wanted it all to stop, to hit rewind and start over. He was wrong. He didn't need a moment, because the concept of Donna— it was so excruciatingly unbelievable he couldn't even bring himself to say it in his own head.

"We had her heartbeat back up rather quickly, but unfortunately, we don't know the damage that the lack of oxygen may have caused. Her heart rate and blood pressure are holding steady now, but I recommended to keep her sedated and intubated for a little while. There's no reason for her to fight more than she already has." The doctor's face broke out into a mild and tentative smile.

Harvey had released the breath he didn't know he was holding when the doctor had said 'back up'.

Stable — that by all accounts was a good thing.

A new surge of hope and faith had Harvey ask which room Donns was in, and he bolted to the elevators as soon as the doctor had given him the information he needed.

* * *

Harvey wanted to be perfect. He wanted to be perfect for her in this tough time when the world seemed to come to a halt just from Donna's absence. But he wasn't perfect, because his hand had become so numb at this point it hurt, and he'd love nothing more than to loosen the grip. And yet, he wouldn't. He wouldn't because he wasn't ready to let go, not now or ever.

But he had been gone, more times than he'd like to admit. In all the three times he'd left her bedside — the first to go to the bathroom, the second to get something to eat, the third to get a change of clothes — he'd felt this unbearable sense of guilt. It had gotten up to the point he preferred to stink or pee himself, rather than missing the moment she woke up, or worse.

He kept checking the heart monitor with worrying persistence, and sometimes he had to blink the sleep from his eyes to not misread a beat.

It was almost midnight, and the ICU had already shut most of the lights in the hallway. Heavy silence engulfed the unit, except for the beeping of the dozen machines Donna was attached to. Harvey was drowning into loneliness and despair, clutching her hand and thinking that he couldn't do it. He couldn't bear to see her like this, with pallor on her ivory cheeks, and a blank expression instead of her lively one.

Eventually, exhaustion got the better of him. He had just started to drift off, and that was probably why he almost didn't notice when she started to choke.

When he dared himself to imagine how her waking up would be, he pictured the slightest bit of movement, maybe a flicker of her fingers intertwined with his. He would have wondered if that was hallucination or reality, but she would just open her eyes, tell him she was awake for real and that she had heard every single thing he had whispered in her sleep.

Harvey would have never expected it to be so… traumatic.

Donna's body had gone from perfectly still to convulsing in a couple of seconds, all that while Harvey had been petrified by fear, frozen in the corner of the room. He had stood there, helpless and scared to death, blinded by the fear. He hadn't been able to form a single thought or even ask what was happening, when a nice nurse had taken him out of his trance, telling him that was a good sign — Donna was able to breathe on her own, and she was rejecting the intubation.

Protocol, that's how she had called it.

It seemed nothing like protocol when Donna opened her eyes again for the first time since Gallo's ordeal.

As if she sensed she was in the forefront of his mind, her hazel orbits settled on him, just watching him, not really expressing anything.

If he was honest with himself, Harvey didn't know what to expect. Pain, fear, confusion? Everything was a possibility. But he found himself to be the painful, fearful, and confused one, as oxygen got knocked out of his lungs by her intimidating gaze. Even after heart surgery, lying in a hospital bed, she was having utter and total control over him, without even wanting to.

Donna was sore, from head to toe. It wasn't unendurable, probably from the amount of painkillers currently flowing through her bloodstream, but what worried her most was the cloud of perplexity that overwhelmed her. She realized that she wasn't in her own bed, that much was clear, and she remembered what had happened back at the firm, but it took her a considerable amount of time to connect the dots and figure why she was in a hospital bed.

She saw Harvey standing there, bewilderment in his eyes, and she immediately wanted to call out for him, but the dryness of her throat made it impossible.

Once the doctors had run the necessary tests, they decided to leave them alone for a moment. They knew that reacting well to awakening after a traumatic event was the key to a good recovery, and it was always better to have someone familiar close instead of a bunch of strangers.

But several seconds had passed, and Harvey kept standing there, wide-eyed and stunned.

She could see he was shaken-up, god knows she was dazed as well, but she was just so relieved, now that she knew he was okay.

"Harvey?" Donna choked out.

As soon as the words left her rippled lips, Harvey rushed to her bed, throwing his head on her lap, as he started to cry hysterically. Donna instinctively wrapped her aching arms around him.

It was unbelievable — Harvey 'caring makes you weak' Specter, the toughest closer in New York City, had never been so vulnerable.

Harvey raised his head. Looking her dead in her eyes, Donna felt his dejected stare gather a knot in her throat. "Don't you ever dare to do something like that again." He managed to sound stern, despite his bloodshot and shimmering eyes.

His gaze was so intense and his words were so unsettling, that Donna felt the need to escape the consequence of her actions. She tried to deflect and ignore the grip in her stomach.

"I thought you would appreciate it." The quip sounded raspy and cracked.

"Donna," his voice broke, and Donna felt like she was being shot in the chest all over again, "I'm serious."

"So am I."

"What were you thinking?" Harvey was raging, but most of all he was desperate for an answer.

The question threw Donna off guard. The truth was, she hadn't been thinking at that moment. Or maybe she had, but how was she supposed to tell him that she would sacrifice herself instead of him any day? He wouldn't understand it. He wouldn't understand the way she loved him, more than life itself, and that she wouldn't lose a minute of sleep over her decision.

But she had never actually pondered that far ahead.

"Wouldn't you think about yourself?" he pressed.

"I was thinking about myself," she said earnestly.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I wouldn't have been able to live with myself after I witnessed you dying in front of me. It means that I preferred losing my life, instead of living one without you. So I thought about me, I thought about what I wanted," Donna confessed, with a force she didn't know she possessed. "I'd say I was even selfish."

"And what about me, Donna?" Harvey said, just above a whisper. "Didn't you think about what witnessing you taking a bullet for me would have done to me?"

She scrutinized him, bewildered by his words, but not willing to go back on hers.

"I'm not going make amends, Harvey. First, because it would be useless now, and second, because I don't regret it. I'm not apologizing for who I am," Donna stated with confidence.

At that moment, Harvey realized that she couldn't have said anything more accurate. Her whole life she had done what she thought was right, and fortunately, this time she had gotten away with it.

There was no point in upsetting her and rubbing salt in the wound. Maybe it was just better to bury the hatchet.

"I'm just so damn happy you're here." He took her cold hand, kissing it and pressing it up against his cheek, drawing lazy circles on the back. Donna responded out of reflex, seeking the warmth emanating from his face and catching a couple of his hot tears with her thumb.

The gesture held a level of intimacy they had never shared, not physically anyway. Not even the other time, or the newest time, when they both had felt something, but it had been buried under the overwhelming sexual tension. This time there was nothing carnal or erotic, just pure and innocent devotion — that kind of selfless and unconditional love.

A knock on the door forced them apart, as the now familiar surgeon apologized for the interruption and asked Donna to have a word, in private. Her first instinct was to allow Harvey to be there, whatever the doctor had to tell her. With every chance, it was about her medical condition anyway. Then a thought, that had never occurred to her since she had woken up, forced her to close her mouth.

"Harvey, could you go get me something to drink while the doctor fills me in?" she said, instead.

"I don't want to leave you alone."

"It's not like I can run anywhere." She nodded in the direction of her catheter. "Please, it'll only take a minute."

Donna coaxed him with a gentle smile and Harvey left the room with reluctance, promising he'd be quick.

"Miss Paulsen, I'm sorry for kicking Mr. Specter out. He's your emergency contact, but he's not in your marital status, so I thought you would have felt more comfortable talking in private," the man said once they were alone.

"I understand."

The doctor scratched his hoary beard. Even if Donna hadn't been a natural at reading body language, the way he was fidgeting with the hem of his gown screamed uneasiness from every angle.

She cut to the chase.

"I lost it, didn't I?" Donna herself was unpleasantly surprised by the straightforwardness of her statement.

The man looked at her with a puzzled look on his face, clearing his throat at the awkwardness of the moment and trying to regain professionalism.

He took a couple of steps forward. "During the surgery, you went under blood deficiency. Even if we kept treating you with blood transfusions, your heart went into arrest, which lead to oxygen starvation and fetal loss. I'm truly sorry, but there was really nothing we could do."

Donna stared at the man speaking, and as she could see that the news didn't startle him too much — understandably in a career of delivering bad news — she noticed her emotions mirrored his.

It was like she had completely shut down. She had built an impenetrable wall of stone, which prevented anything from reaching her.

"I'm sorry too," she expressed her sentiment, though it didn't quite reach her eyes.

She knew she should feel sorry, lost, hurt. She forced herself so hard to feel the pain she knew she was supposed to feel.

But the only thing she felt was empty.

* * *

**I thought about re-writing this as many times as I**** can possibly count, but at the end I stuck with it, even if I know it's painful. It has a reason.  
**

**There's still so much more to tell, and I'm confident in what I want to explore in the next chapters with Harvey and Donna's characters. Of course, everything they've gone through is going to affect them, as well as everyone. **

**I hope you'll keep following and enjoying this. Please, just have faith in me :)**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hello people! **

**I feel like maybe I should establish a day to update, and I probably will once I organize my chapters better. But you can be sure I'll try and let a chapter out every week as I've already done.**

**I can't even begin to express how grateful I am for every single follow/favorite/review, I see and appreciate you all! But a special thank you goes to Stefanie, who's always there for me and provides the best advice and support. She's pretty amazing :)**

**Last week we've seen one nightmare end (even though I'm kinda sad I won't get to write about the action of the shooting anymore) and another one begin. I'm glad you've adapted to this change quite well and hope you'll keep following this story because there's still so much more to tell!**

**Enjoy **

**G-**

**Chapter 12: Good grief**

"This is the day for us to celebrate our beloved Benjamin's life, and for each of us to say our goodbyes. It's never easy to bid farewell, especially when said farewell is premature. But every day we celebrate him in some way, as a friend, as a son, as a brother."

Donna felt her throat going dry at the minister's words.

It was a rather warm day for the spring season. An unusual hot wind was blowing, and the leafy branches of the oak trees gently danced at every breeze. A silent rustle mingled with the choked cries of the people attending the memorial service. The sun that timidly peeked through the clouds made the relatives and friends' glistening eyes shimmer.

"There is an appointed time for everything, and a time for every affair under the heavens. A time to be born, and a time to die. A time to plant, and a time to uproot the plant. A time to kill, and a time to heal. A time to tear down, and a time to build. A time to weep, and a time to laugh. A time to mourn, and a time to dance. A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones. A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing."

The sticky heat made it hard for Donna to breathe. Harvey felt her fuss against his side and threw her a side-glance. She stared pointedly at her shoes, rocking back and forth on her heels.

"Do you want to sit down?" Harvey whispered in her ear, worried that she might be tired of standing up. He knew she had insisted on being there for Benjamin and his family, but her discharge from the hospital wasn't that long ago.

Donna shook her head, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear. "You stay here. I'm just going to—" she gestured to the back, but never actually finished the sentence.

Harvey went to open his mouth, but Donna was already subtly making her way through the crowded lines of people listening to the clergyman's eulogy. Soon, she wasn't even in sight anymore.

Donna walked and walked until she found herself near the crypt. There was a strange sense of peace and tranquility around there — the eternal rest. The concept was far too big for her to fully grasp, even if she had nearly lost her life as well. The itching stitches on her chest were the proof of what had happened, but the new state of things hadn't actually sunk in. It was just surreal to her, thinking that Benjamin had died and they were about to bury him. It was like she couldn't process the information, like it wasn't even real.

She didn't know how to go on from that point. She kept living in the version of her life before what had happened back at the firm, and while the world kept revolving and changing around her, she was just stuck.

She felt the impending debt she had with Benjamin's project, but she had no clue about what to do with the device, or even what _he_ would have wanted to do with it. Quite frankly, she just felt like this whole obligation was messing with her head. Thinking about Benjamin's blood flowing through her fingertips while he revealed the existence of _The Donna _to her only knocked the air out of her lungs.

Donna crossed her arms in front of her chest, climbing on the first step of the crypt. She observed as her index finger traced the opaque plaque into which Benjamin's family name was carved. She found herself strangely comfortable in that atmosphere — the silence that engulfed her was certainly better than a hundred people constantly checking on her.

Donna turned in the other direction, making her way under the other big oak that provided a spot shielded by the scorching sun. She sat down on the ground — her dress was dark anyway, it wouldn't ruin too much. She rested her head against the tree trunk, raising her eyes and getting lost in the shadow of green above her.

Back at the funeral, the sermon had already ended a few minutes ago, and Harvey was growing worried about Donna. She had been gone, all by herself, for at least twenty minutes.

It hadn't been easy for her to deal with the new reality. Physically, she seemed to be recovering pretty fast, even if she kept suffering a bit of post-op pain, but mentally, her wounds didn't seem inclined to heal anytime soon.

Harvey had been attached to her hip since she had woken up, terrified by the possibility of literally _anything _happening to her. He had requested some time off, to take care of her once she got discharged. Since then, he had been basically living at her place.

As much as he would like to say they lived together, he couldn't. As a matter of fact, he wasn't even sure they were together. Of course, they had had that heart-to-heart when she had woken up in her hospital bed, so he was pretty sure where they both stood, but they hadn't really defined their relationship status. Not that it really mattered to Harvey, he was content just being by her side.

He had no intention of pressuring or startling her, but lately, he had been feeling she more distant than ever. Simply holding her hand made her jump like he had never touched her before, or worse, like his touch upset her.

She wouldn't talk to him, and he was desperate for answers.

"Looking for someone?" Mike said, stepping closer to Harvey's side.

The elder lawyer blew out a breath, his eyes scanning the crowd. "Donna. I kind of have lost sight of her."

Mike shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his black suit. "Don't worry. She probably wants a moment to herself. You know, this must be hard for her."

"I know, I know," Harvey nodded his head repeatedly like he was also trying to convince himself. "It's just that— I wish she could let me in."

Mike weighted Harvey's words, a little taken aback. He wasn't used to Harvey being so open about what was going on in his head, but he wasn't about to shy away now. He didn't want to disclose any detail though, because that was the last thing Donna needed. He just didn't know how much Harvey knew.

Donna hadn't been herself since she had woken up in the hospital, but that could also easily been bound to the incredible trauma she had suffered.

And yet, when she had insisted for him to come into her room, and she had told him point-blank that she had miscarried and not to tell anyone, Mike knew there was so much more going on. It was like she had chosen to show only one layer of the pain that currently enveloped her.

"She's— you know, she's strange. And I know that she has gone through something huge, but she's like—" Harvey tried to find the right words. "Completely disconnected. I don't know how else to explain it."

Mike felt a grip on his stomach at his friend's struggle. He just wanted to tell him what he knew, but it wasn't his place.

"I don't know how to help her when she won't let me," Harvey added, then turned towards Mike with a newfound sparkle in his eyes. "Maybe you could try to talk to her."

"Me? What— why me?"

"Because you also got shot by Frank Gallo," Harvey explained. "And you're the only one beside her who's still on leave from work."

"Geez, _now_ we have so much more in common," Mike said ironically.

"Come on, Mike. I'm worried about her. She won't talk to me, and she's probably already sick of me constantly breathing down her neck. I'm desperate for help," Harvey pled him.

Mike thought it probably wasn't a bad idea, after all. Donna would be more inclined to open up to him — since he already knew that she had been pregnant — than revealing the truth to an oblivious Harvey. Maybe she would even listen to him and he would convince her to tell him, eventually.

At that point, trying couldn't do any worse.

"Yes." Mike nodded. "Of course. I'll try to talk to her."

Harvey flashed him a sincere and happy smile. "Thank you, Mike. I appreciate it." He patted the Kid's back. "I have to get back to the firm for the day, but maybe you could swing by her apartment."

* * *

Donna sat on her couch, nursing a glass of single malt. It's something she rarely did — whiskey being her choice only when she was with Harvey, and drinking alone usually meaning red wine. Today, though, she felt like a stiff drink would have been better. After all, she just attended the funeral of the man who had exhaled his last breath in her arms, pleading her to keep his project alive — a project that carried her name.

_Holy shit_.

Today was also the day she spoke to Heather, who had been worried about her friend since she had seen her name flashing in the news that fatal day, weeks ago.

The subject of Donna's miscarriage inevitably came up, as Heather had been the one to take her first and last ultrasound. Apologies and comforting words were shared, but, somewhere in the middle of the conversation, the gynecologist had a slip of tongue, revealing to Donna the sex of the baby she had lost.

A boy. She was having a boy. _They_ were having a boy.

Donna had always thought she would have liked a girl better, but now that she knew she had been growing a baby boy, she couldn't stop picturing it: Harvey encouraging their son to play baseball, teaching him how to dress in Tom Ford, and how to charm girls with the Specter smile.

She spied a tear slipping into her drink, and she couldn't believe that after she had cried her eyes out, she still had it in her to continue.

She had been doing that a lot — crying.

She had been crying in the shower once she got home from the hospital.

She had been crying when Harvey had gone back to work.

She had been crying when she had retrieved the sonogram, once the nurse had returned what she was wearing the day she got shot.

The redhead had thought about throwing it away, or burning it, or do anything else to take it as far away from her as possible. Out of sight, out of mind. But it was the last thing that remained of her dead son, and she couldn't bring herself to get rid of it.

Donna dabbed the corner of her eye, catching another tear with her finger before it could drop in her whiskey. Then she brought it to her lips and knocked it down with two generous gulps.

She was contemplating whether to get another one or not when she heard a cautious knock on the door.

Instead of getting up, Donna threw her head back, sinking further into the cushions. Maybe she could pretend she was sleeping.

Another knock came shortly after.

Groaning rather loudly, she eventually got back on her feet and dragged herself to the door. Every step landed on the hardwood floor with a heavy thud, as the person outside her apartment decided to make his presence known by banging his fist near the '206' doorplate rather insistently.

With one last overdramatic sigh, Donna opened the door without even checking the peephole. She was surprised to find Mike standing there, but he wasn't able to catch her surprise since her expression shifted to annoyed pretty quickly. As a matter of fact, the door wasn't even totally opened, when Donna decided to close it into Mike's face.

She hadn't even a second to muse over her rude gesture, that Mike blocked the door with his left foot. A skinny arm slid between the tiny gap, holding a cup of coffee before Donna's face.

She rolled her eyes at the olive branch, but couldn't keep the left corner of her mouth from quirking up inadvertently.

Donna grabbed the handle and got a peek at the young man, widening the gap between the jamb and the door.

"Triple nonfat sugar-free Mocha latte?" She heard him say. "Come on, I only have one good arm." Mike gestured to his bandaged left arm.

She seemed to ponder it for a moment, and Mike thought she was going to slam the door into his face again. Instead, she swept the cup off Mike's grasp with a smirk.

"Come the hell in before I change my mind." She stepped aside to let him in.

The couple found themselves in Donna's kitchen, while she sipped the peace offering Mike had gifted her with. She had poured him a cup of coffee as well — decaf, giving it was the only one she had stored. Mike didn't comment on it.

"And so they told me I could theoretically come back to work, but they would prefer if I did one more week of therapy," he filled her in after a few minutes of small talk.

Donna leaned her back against her kitchen counter, staring intensely at the beverage in her hands. She traced the hem of the plastic cup with her thumb, not muttering a word.

"Have they... talked to you... about... therapy?" Mike dared to ask, gingerly tiptoeing around the subject.

_Harvey told you, _she thought.

"Harvey told me," Mike interjected.

Donna blew out a breath, shaking her head, but never actually raising it. At this point, she could as well tell him the truth. It was probably in the public domain anyway.

"Jessica said I'm not allowed to come back to work unless I attend my scheduled appointments with Lipschitz," she divulged.

"Have you started?" Mike could pick up from her tone that she was already sick and tired of the conversation, but a promise to Harvey was a promise.

"No."

"Have you even _considered_ starting?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"No."

"Donna—" Mike tried but got cut off.

"Look, Mike are you here to talk about work? Because if the answer's yes, that's the door." Donna nodded towards the exit.

Mike believed her words. He didn't need to be actually kicked out of her home to know she wasn't throwing around vain threats.

Donna had always been an intimidating woman, but this time he was deliberately poking the bear. And although confronting her didn't bring him anything, Harvey had asked him a favor, so Mike thought it was the least he could do. Plus, he deeply cared about Donna, and he could see she wasn't dealing with her pain, or her loss, remotely well.

"Have you told him?" Mike's inquiry pressed right where it hurt.

Donna's heart overflowed with regret, and perhaps that's why she felt the need to bite, "Are you kidding me?" She let out a cynical chuckle.

"Well, you said work's off-limits, this is personal," Mike countered.

"And just as hurtful." Donna locked eyes with him for the first time, and the grief behind them felt like a punch in the gut. The woman threw her hands in the air in frustration. "Look, even if tell him, he would be sad, I would be sad, he would console me, and then what do you think will come out of it?"

The room fell in utter silence.

"That's what I thought," Donna pointed out. "I would just open wounds that quite frankly are not even close to being healed."

Mike felt her struggle deeply within his core. It was clear that Donna was aware of the loss she had suffered, she just didn't know how to mourn. And he doubted she even wanted to, wanted to feel the stark and rough pain that it would bring instead. He couldn't even begin to think what it would feel like to have your own baby ripped out of your womb. He certainly wasn't a woman, and not being able to relate with the issues her own body had to deal with, made it impossible for him to judge.

"I respect that," Mike said earnestly.

"But you don't like it," Donna mused.

Mike mulled over what to say next. He certainly didn't want to push her — knowing how it felt to live with grief since his grandmother and his parents died — but he couldn't pretend to not see what the whole situation was doing to her. The pain was eating her up from the inside — sharpening the soft flesh of her cheeks, drying her glossy hair, and paling her skin. He couldn't sit back and watch as she got stripped of her characteristic glow.

"I can't help it, Donna. I just think he should know."

She sniffed, eventually gathering herself. "I can't promise you anything," she conceded him a half-smile.

"I wouldn't have expected otherwise." Mike shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee.

* * *

Harvey's whole body buzzed with excitement, as he entered the keys in the lock and opened the door to Donna's apartment. He had been at the firm just for a few hours, but he truly couldn't wait to see her again. His condo didn't even cross his mind anymore — he just wanted to come home to her.

He didn't bother calling out her name, just strolling down the dark hall and hoping to not find her busy talking to her mom, like it usually happened during that hour. He saw her sitting on the couch, her back to him. The living room was only dimly lit, but he could spy an unfinished glass of whiskey sitting on the table in front of her.

He silently took a couple of steps towards her, reaching out and lightly touching her shoulder to get her attention. Donna immediately flinched and drew back, like his hand was fire.

"Hey," he said soothingly, quite confused by her reaction. He caught a glimpse of her fidgeting with something in her hands, then hiding it in the pocket on her jeans. Turning around, he watched as she randomly moved her hair out of her face, needy with something to keep her now empty hands occupied.

"I'm sorry. Just— didn't hear you coming in." She seemed flustered — like a kid caught doing something they shouldn't — but she offered a thin smile anyway.

Harvey wondered if maybe he had invaded her privacy, but then, it wasn't like he had never come in without knocking these days.

"Should have I not used the key?" He held it up for her to see. "Because if you don't want me to, you can just—"

"No, of course not. Don't be silly, I am the one who gave it to you. I was just, you know, spaced out a little bit," she said, but Harvey kept inspecting her for any clues that she might be faking it.

It was such a simple reason to explain her behavior, but nothing was simple with Donna lately. His suspicion was stamped all over his face, so she tried diverting the subject to distract him.

"How did it go at work?" she asked him while circling the couch and walking towards the decanter to get a refill.

Harvey seemed hesitant, not completely willing to let go. He somehow craved to press a little bit more, dig a little bit deeper, but, like every time now, he decided to drop it. He was still guarded, but he trusted her to open up when she would feel like it.

But the question had sincerely thrown him off, making him feel like he was suddenly in the hot seat.

"Umh, you know, the usual." He dropped his eyes on the floor, clearly not as good as Donna to shield his features.

"What was that?" she questioned him, raising an eyebrow.

Harvey let out a heavy sigh, figuring that if he wanted her to be honest with him, he should try telling the truth as well. "I got a call from Cahill today. He told me that they're thinking about letting Gallo stay in Danbury."

"Wh— what are you talking about?" Donna's eyes widened. "No, no, you told me they were supposed to put him in a maximum-security prison, not in the place he already escaped once. A place where he has every guard in his pocket." She rubbed her temple, while rambling and starting to pace across the room.

Harvey immediately cursed himself at the sight of her worried expression. He should have known better, not giving her any more trouble.

"Hey, don't worry. I'm already sorting this out." He reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. "We're not going to let him get away with it."

Donna removed her hand from his grasp, shaking her head. "No, you don't understand, Harvey. He _always _gets away with everything, and I cannot allow it anymore. He cannot take away from me more than he already has. Not after…," she trailed off, noticing that she would have probably let her precious secret slip off her tongue just now. After so many weeks of hiding the truth, she couldn't believe how easy it would have been to spill it all out.

And maybe part of her wanted to tell him. Holding it all inside wasn't doing her any good, and the pain was just growing and growing, nurtured by neglected grief, and it was threatening to burst out ten times stronger. And yet, she couldn't even bring herself to say the words out loud.

She hadn't wanted a baby in the first place. Then why did it feel like she could never go back?

"After what?" Harvey obviously questioned.

Donna turned around.

It had started long ago, and now it was just a mere reflex. She retreated into herself, she lied with disconcerting ease, and she got defensive before he could even do something about it.

She couldn't help it.

She felt little and vulnerable under his inquisitorial gaze.

It wasn't like they had never had a serious conversation before, but it felt as if Harvey Specter was standing in front of her for the very first time. It downed to her at that moment, that she wasn't talking to her boss, or her friend, but to the father of her deceased son. And as much as the thought alone of revisiting what had happened and letting him into that suffocating spiral of pain was unbearable, maybe it was only fair.

"Donna, please, I beg you. I know you just went through something huge. You need time to recover, and I want to help you. But lately, it feels like everything I do is wrong, and I don't know what to do to make you feel better."

Once he was met again with silence, Harvey decided not to hold back anymore.

"I love you, Donna. And I'm not going anywhere, whether you decide to talk to me or not, because this is it for me. But I cannot stand to see you suffer anymore."

Donna's watery eyes shot up to meet his, mirroring the truth of a sentiment hidden for too long. She could read it on his face, crystal clear, like she had never before. Something had changed — he had changed. Harvey had been the one to take a step forward when she had stubbornly made two backward. It was time _she _changed.

She buried a trembling hand in her pocket, fishing out the crumpled sonogram and handing it to him. "I was pregnant," she finally said, not actually trusting the words to leave her mouth until they did. "It was yours. I was pregnant, and that day I lost it."

The statement traveled to his head, where Harvey kept repeating it over and over again. He just stared at the little image, hoping it would somehow sink in.

And it did.

Her words and the photo suddenly made a coherent sense and— _holy shit_.

Harvey's whole system was in complete shock. His mind spun violently and his heart began slamming against his ribcage, while the only thing he could control was his blinking.

"Harvey?" Donna checked after too much time had passed.

"For how long have you know?" It was his first question.

"A couple of weeks," she confessed, worrying her bottom lip. All of the guilt that had been building up these past weeks bubbled up in her stomach.

The truth felt like a pang to his chest.

"Why wouldn't you tell me? I could have helped you. And after you— jeez, Donna."

"I wanted to tell you that night, when I invited you over for dinner, after Mike got out of prison. But then I miscarried and it just— it hurt too much," she managed to say while she sobbed almost hysterically.

Harvey's heart broke at the sight of how destroyed she was. He had never been unfazed by her pain, but this time, it _really_ was his own.

He needed to touch her, to feel grounded somehow, because the whole situation was too big and overwhelming.

He slipped a hand through her red locks, nudging her closer to him.

He had no clue what to say to make her feel better, not being sure it even existed. He was trying to process the news himself, and he had never been too good with words anyway.

"I hate that you had to go through all of that alone, Donna. I— I can't even begin to think what it has been like. But you have me, Donna. Now and forever. You are not on your own, you have never been." He cradled her head between his big hands.

Donna's head bobbed up and down.

Harvey saw her bottom lip trembling again, and decided to throw all caution to the wind. This time, he didn't hesitate before pulling her into his arms and sliding a hand up and down her back in a soothing effort.

After a few seconds, he felt her hot breath on his neck, and he knew she was going to speak. "I guess it hit me more than I would have expected. I mean, I thought I didn't even want it, until I lost it," she confessed for the first time, not only to him but also to herself. "I really wanted that baby."

Her words left a burning sensation in Harvey's chest. He wanted to save her from the grief and the unbearable pain she was experiencing, but he just felt useless. God, he would even make another baby right then and there, if that's what she wanted.

Anger towards Frank Gallo for what he had deprived them of started to rise. Harvey tried to quell it as quickly as it came, knowing that it wasn't the right time. Donna was the only thing that mattered.

She felt one of Harvey's hot tears dropping to her shoulder.

"I really wanted it too," he murmured against her neck, nuzzling against the soft and milky flesh. Then, he drew back just enough so that he could properly look into her eyes. "I know that it doesn't feel like it, but we're going to get through this. You just— you have to trust me and allow me to help you. Alright?"

Her hazel pools stung with moisture, but the smile she flashed him with was sincere, he could tell.

They were close, so close their noses were basically brushing against one another. Harvey's need to kiss her was over the edge, but it was actually Donna who leaned in and closed the gap between them.

Their lips met in the softest kiss they'd ever shared, filled with love and tenderness. A safe sense of warmth spread through his body, everywhere, from head to toe. It branched into his chest, making Harvey's heart soar.

It was their way to communicate, to tell each other everything they needed to know.

It was right, and easy.

It was them.

And yet, the butterflies in Donna's stomach made her feel like they had never kissed before. The emotions that arose were not completely new, but it was the first time they were free to enjoy them. They weren't uncertain about the future, they knew that this was it, for both of them.

When they eventually parted, Donna didn't hesitate a bit. "Harvey?" She called him.

"Mh?" He murmured, still completely lost in her.

"I love you, too."

Harvey didn't fail to notice how her revelation felt like a breath of fresh air.

The whole situation was miles away from what he had ever thought possible between them. He had never truly let himself open up to the possibility of a romantic involvement with her. Dreamed about it? Sure, but never really dared to get his hopes up.

But now... now he just didn't see it any other way.

As he held her close that night, he vowed himself to put aside his own pain to let her deal with her own.

And looking at down at her, cuddled up against his chest and sleeping soundly, it just felt like they were exactly where they were supposed to be.


	13. Chapter 13

**Hi guys! **

**This chapter really is kind of a judgment day, since Donna is finally ready (sort of) to go to Lipschitz.**

**I personally fell naturally into this version of them, and I hope you won't find it too out of character. Also, my trusted beta gave it the go-ahead, and I'm here to hear all of your thoughts. **

**Hope you enjoy.**

**G-  
**

**Chapter 13: Judgment day**

Donna tapped her heeled foot on the wooden floor for the umpteenth time.

"First, let me say how glad I am to finally meet you," Stan Lipschitz said with a warm smile grazing his thin lips. Whether that was genuine or just an effort to make Donna comfortable, she'll never know.

The redhead tried to mirror the sentiment, but that resulted almost impossible. She certainly wasn't glad to be there, because that meant her trauma went deeper than she thought.

And if for Donna a couple of weeks' leave and some good crying seemed like a fair option to heal, Jessica had requested a specialist to take care of that. The managing partner cleary deemed her unable to get back to work when what Donna really needed, was to get busy with something. She craved typing motions on her keyboard, mocking Mike's newest haircut, and taking coffee breaks with Rachel. She missed having a routine and feeling accomplished, but most of all, she missed being so tired at night that she would just roll into bed and forget about everything.

In the end though, what made her change her mind about therapy, was really Harvey. He had just suggested it, never actually pushing her towards a decision, but Donna knew he was worried about her, and if she could make him feel better by spending an hour in Stan Lipschitz's office, she would do it.

"I would be lying if I said that I didn't wish we'd met under different circumstances." Donna settled for an honest and sufficiently polite answer.

She clasped her hands over one knee, scanning the surroundings to not fall victim to the awkward silence.

Stan was the one to break the ice again. He was better at it, and it was part of his job anyway. "Well, I have already spent more than seven years with Louis, and I had some interesting sessions with your colleagues as well. I think it was about time I met you, too."

Stan's apparently amicable words hit a nerve.

She knew basically everyone at the firm had scheduled an appointment with Lipschitz at some point. Some needed just a good talk, others began regular sessions. Donna was the only one who had objected. _Jesus, _even Harvey had been more versatile than her.

She couldn't help it.

Even if she had witnessed with her own eyes to how therapy had benefited even the most troubled of men, it felt different when it came to her. As a matter of fact, in all her life, Donna had considered herself a solid and emotionally stable woman. She had never thought she'd need to seek a specialist's help to be in charge of her own feelings, and it certainly felt like a low blow.

She scoffed slightly, narrowing her eyes at the ambivalence of the situation.

Lipschitz seemed to see right through her, and his mouth curved slightly upwards, intrigued by his patient's behavior and satisfied that the picture he had been building of her was proving to be matching.

"I understand what I said upset you. Did anyone tell you, you have really strong facial expressions?" He said, holding up his pen and circling the air around Donna's face to empathize the concept.

"I am an actress." The statement rolled off her tongue with ease before she corrected herself. "_Was _an actress." Donna shook her head.

"And that makes you sad?" Lipschitz guessed from her comeback.

"I thought we were here to talk about my PTSD. You know, screaming into my sleep, or stuff like that," Donna humored, but her chuckle lacked any mirth whatsoever.

"We're here to talk about anything you want."

Donna drew in a breath. Quite frankly, Lipschitz's professionalism was starting to bother her. She couldn't see through his flat gaze and his unreadable face, and that was unnerving, to say the least. He always meant business, and even when she felt like he might be loosening up a bit, she was reminded that those rare moments were probably a game plan to make her open up. She couldn't lower her guard, not even for a second, and being under scrutiny suddenly didn't feel like something she was willing to do anymore.

"I don't really like to talk about, you know, what's going on in here," the woman said, pointing directly at her head.

"And why's that?"

"Because—" Donna found herself saying before she could even realize she was about to disclose some of her deepest feelings.

_Damn, he was good. _Still, she chose to make the therapist sweat a little before eventually giving him what he wanted. She waited another couple of seconds, before, "Because _I_ can't even make sense of what I'm feeling."

Lipschitz seemed to see a small opening and decided to shoot his shot, "So, maybe I can try."

He could see Donna a tough nut to crack, but that was exactly how she wanted it. She didn't know exactly what she expected to accomplish going there, because opening up about her secrets and fears just wasn't in her plans. But she guessed sitting on that couch should mean something. _Baby steps_, she reminded herself. But still, Donna seemed unable to let go and take that first step.

Her skeptical look didn't make Lipschitz waver, so she guessed she might as well be honest with the man.

"Can I be honest with you?"

"Of course. I am here for this after all," Lipschitz said, ever the professional.

"I don't really believe in this stuff. I mean, I know that you've helped people and that you're very good at what you do, but a part of me still feels reluctant about therapy. Like it doesn't really work."

"Okay." Lipschitz nodded his head. He took off his glasses and then clasped his hands in front of his knee. "Now, can _I _be honest with you?"

"Sure."

"I feel like you're full of shit."

The statement traveled to Donna's ears and she made sure to repeat it in her head a few times. Did he just—

"Pardon me?" Donna gurned like a goldfish, not quite sure she had heard him correctly.

Lipschitz appeared like the most unprejudiced, even and composed man on earth. It didn't seem possible that he would be so blunt with her.

"You see, I tend to approach every patient differently. Now, I feel like you're a very outspoken person, so I know I can be this direct with you and you won't fall apart crying or lashing out at me, like someone we both know," he shot her a knowing look, "and from what that same person told me, you're a woman who likes to be in control. Now, I imagine it must be hard for you to accept you're the one having problems, and not the one solving them."

Donna stared at him wide-eyed.

In all her life, no one had been able to get a read on her so thoroughly in such a short time. Probably Louis' stories might have helped picturing her with more accuracy, but she had been talking to the man for just a few minutes, and here he was — knowing her probably better than her own mother.

Lipschitz obviously knew what he was doing. All the certifications, records, and attestations hanging on the walls were not just pure exhibitionism, but the proof he was _really_ good at what he did. You could be sure that every single drop of knowledge that was contained in those books that filled the shelves had been absorbed by his brain.

"So, the way I see it, you can either walk away from this session and revolve around the problem until it'll eat you alive, or you can give this a shot." He gestured to their surroundings. "I can't see why it would be a bad thing."

Donna pondered on her options for a minute. She had been intrigued by the man, and that seldom happened.

"Alright." She decided to take a leap of faith.

Lipschitz smiles at his patient and placed his glasses back on the bridge of his nose. The click of the pen chimed quite loudly in the otherwise silent room, as Stan opened his notebook on his lap.

Donna swallowed the lump that the motions had formed in her throat. The thought of speaking while someone wrote down notes about your persona felt extremely invasive, but she knew that was part of the process. Even if the idea of Lipschitz misinterpreting everything that came out of her mouth was still at the forefront of her mind, Donna really put an effort in to open up.

After a few minutes of prep talk, the therapist began to dive a little bit deeper, and she felt every layer that had been shielding her core slowly peeled off. He was stripping her out of her armor, first talking about her insecurities about what once was her dream-job, then by making her realize that she had been putting her secretarial duties to Harvey before herself.

Not that she regretted choosing to follow him to Pearson Hardman and becoming his assistant full-time, but that was something she had just brushed off. In reality — Lipschitz made her notice — it had been a huge leap in the dark.

And after a good twenty minutes, he decided to jump right in.

"So, jumping in front of a bullet, why would you do it?"

Donna felt intimidated by the question. Of course, phrased like that, it really sounded crazy. And yet, when she had done it, it had felt like the most natural thing in the world.

"I don't know. I just did it." She shrugged her shoulders. For a second, she seemed tempted to change her answer — she didn't want Lipschitz to tick the box 'suicidal'.

"I think you know why you did it. No human being exposes their life like that without thinking. There must be a reason."

Of course, there was a reason — she loved Harvey. She saw a gunman threatening the life of the man she had loved her whole life and her instincts kicked in.

"I guess— I just— wanted to protect Harvey," she said earnestly.

"You two are really close," Lipschitz deducted.

Donna's lips twitched upwards involuntarily, the statement causing a smile to creep up. "We are." She nodded.

"Forgive me, Donna, but I feel like I have to ask. Are you two together?"

For how many times people had assumed that over the years, Donna had grown accustomed to the usual denial she would fall into when it comes to Harvey. When people asked, she would just set the record straight. _Mostly_. She believed Harvey had probably done the same thing from time to time — not correcting the assumptions and letting it slide. It was just easier not to bother.

Often though, no matter how her gut yelled at her something different, she would just deliver the 'no, we're just _whatever they were_ _before'. _But this time she didn't have to wrack her brain with what suited better between 'boss' or 'friend', but she could actually respond with what felt right in her heart.

"Yeah, we are," she said out loud for the first time. She couldn't help but grin like her sixteen-year-old self would have done with a high school crush.

"Putting someone over your own life is remarkable." Lipschitz drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair. "Then why do I get the feeling you're ashamed of something?" he mused.

When Donna failed to respond, the therapist knew he was going in the right direction. "Do you regret it? Putting Harvey over yourself?" he pressed, but still cautiously.

"No! No—" Donna was quick to defend, shaking her head. "Well, actually—"

Lipschitz could see she was struggling, and normally, he wouldn't push a patient into telling him something, unless they were ready. But it had been such a long road to get Donna to expose herself, that he felt like stopping now would be a total waste.

"Donna, come on. You're so close. I promise you that it'll be better once you let it out," he coaxed her, closing his notebook and leaning slightly forward.

That showed Donna a different perspective — for the first time, she felt like talking to a _real person,_ and not just the man who was paid to listen.

She took all the courage she could muster up, drew in a deep breath, and then, "I think I regret putting Harvey over our son."

Lipschitz's surprised reaction flashed over his face. He recovered fairly quickly but Donna wouldn't have been able to see his eyes narrowing anyway. Her's were too busy filling with tears.

"You have a son?" The therapist gingerly asked.

Donna blinked a couple of times in hopes the hot moisture wouldn't escape her eyelids. "I was pregnant." She blew out a shaky breath. "I was pregnant that day, and, when I jumped in front of that bullet for him… the fact that I might be putting my baby in danger didn't even cross my mind. I mean, what kind of mother doesn't think about her own baby first?"

What was tearing her apart was as clear as day, and for the first time since the sessions had begun, Lipschitz was able to see her true self through the crevices of the armor she had previously put on.

What he saw right now, was a broken mother dealing with her loss.

"And now that I lost it, and I feel empty, and it's _all _my fault."

Feeling the loss of someone she never actually got to see, to touch, to hear, or to smell, it was surreal. Surreal, not the way it numbed her pain, but the way it amplified it. And she had been living her whole life without carrying that baby. Then why did it feel like he had always been a part of it?

It felt like she had already spent a lifetime watching her son's beautiful face, holding his small body, inhaling his familiar smell. Images of them playing together and laughing together haunted her in her sleep. And being jolted awake in the middle of the night with the thought of checking the nursery, or feeding the baby only rubbed it in.

The fact that there never was a nursery, or that her body had never produced any milk, rendered the whole thing even more ridiculous. That stack of cells in her belly never had the chance to grow into a baby — therefore dreaming about bath time and favorite flavor of ice cream just felt an awful lot like going insane.

The baby she never got to meet had left a big void in her chest, as if something was missing. She felt hollow, like someone had dug behind her orbits and sucked away all the soul that was inside, leaving her empty. She could never go back to the person she was before. Frankly, she didn't even want to. Because that would mean forgetting about her deceased son and moving on, and that wasn't fair.

After all, she had been the one to kill him.

"I am a monster." Donna let her head fall into her hands, cradling it and just letting it all out.

Every sob that wracked her body felt like an electric shock to her system.

It was the first time she had ever dared to expose her feelings like that, and good lord if it hurt.

Lipschitz took advantage of the fact she wasn't looking at him to gather himself as well. It didn't happen very often, but some patients' stories touched him more than others. And Donna's… hers was just gut-wrenching.

The doctor removed his glasses and rubbed his forehead a couple of times, as to absorb the load the woman had just unpacked on him.

He was supposed to be stoic, and he usually was, but maybe having been close to Louis and hearing all of his crazy stories about the firm and the people who worked there had made him a little too involved.

"You want to know what I think?" he said, choosing to not wait for a reply from the redhead in front of him. "I think that a monster wouldn't lose a minute's sleep over her actions. The fact that you feel guilty, it's not a good feeling, but it means you did care about your baby. You just met a crossroad and you acted on impulse, putting your long relationship with Harvey over a baby you had just found out about. It doesn't make you a monster, Donna. It makes you human."

Donna blew out a shaky breath, as her heartbeat began to slow down, almost reaching its normal rhythm. The heel of her hands pressed right into her cheekbones to wipe the dampness. She swallowed hard and stared at her own palms, now dirty with mascara.

_I must look like a mess,_ she thought to herself.

Right now though, shame for her looks was the last thing on her mind.

She raised her defeated gaze to look right into Lipschitz's eyes. She poked her inner cheek with her tongue, "I'm pretty messed up, aren't I?"

"I think that's a good place for us to pick up next week."

* * *

Harvey sat in bed. _Her _bed, well— actually, _their _bed. He hadn't really moved in but, _yes_, it felt an awful lot like _theirs. _At least, that's what he liked to think.

He was just going through some emails, lazily scrolling through the messages in his inbox with his thumb. He actually didn't plan to respond to any of them tonight, but he always liked to get a little preview before the business day started.

When Donna walked into the bedroom though, tossing her heels to the side and falling rather unceremoniously on the bed, he dropped the phone in his hands to give her his full attention.

He loved this version of Donna only he was lucky enough to see, at night, when it was just _them. _Them as in _Donna _and _Harvey, _not the _Best Legal Secretary_ in the city and _New York's Best Closer. _

He was quite nervous to hear how it had gone with Lipschitz, knowing how reluctant she had been to meet him in the first place.

He chuckled upon seeing her landing on the mattress on her stomach. He decided to reach out and roll her over, her hair falling in front of her face. He gently moved a couple of strands out of her mouth and eyes, just so he could look right at those hazel pools of hers before dropping a chaste kiss to her lips.

"Hey you," he chimed in.

"Hey." She smiled back, pushing on her elbows and sliding under the covers next to him. There was a time she would have taken the courtesy of stripping out of her outfit of the day before doing that, but that time was far away now.

"How did it go today?" he questioned, sliding his right arm around her shoulders and letting her lean against his torso. Falling into that kind of intimacy had come naturally to them.

"Honestly?" she asked, reaching for his hand and sliding her fingers through his. "Lipschitz's a wizard."

Harvey laughed out loud in response, and Donna loved how every time that happened the corner of his eyes crinkled just a bit. It made him look paradoxically younger, more carefree.

"I'm serious. He should totally make those billable phone calls when he reads the future. Delusional old ladies would go crazy for him."

"Okay. I get it, you're on fire tonight. But, seriously, what do you think?"

"I think... I would very much like to get hired at McDonald's. It would be so much easier," she said, before turning serious after he shot her a warning look. "But I'm not made for easy things. I'm Donna and I find it much more satisfying to succeed in difficult ones."

For a moment, he caught a glimpse of her usual self, before the shooting and everything that had come with it. She looked so proud, and beautiful, and perfect. Harvey kissed her again, just because he could now. Everything that came with loving her openly in their new relationship just felt freeing and liberating.

"I'm going to go next week as well," she filled him in, but she suspected he already knew that.

Harvey tried to hide his excitement the best he could.

"Just make sure Louis doesn't get jealous alright?" he teased her. "Otherwise we'll never hear the end of it."

Donna smiled as she nestled her head in the crook of his neck.

Displaying her deepest fears and feelings with Lipschitz that day had been physically and emotionally exhausting for Donna. But if Harvey was the person she got to come home to after that, she would take it without a minute's thought.

* * *

**And that's all, only for now. **

**I hope you enjoyed this slightly more outspoken Lipschitz (because our Donna needed a little push) and our old feisty redhead. I sure liked to write them both! **

**I do have in plan kind of a little time-jump in a few chapters, but first these two kids in love need to heal and process a little bit more. As a matter of fact, in the next chapter Donna will realize a very important thing and stand up for herself.**

**Please, do tell me what you think, because it sure as hell helps with the writing process.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Hi guys, I'm super sorry about having missed my weekly update but things have gone crazy these past few days. Now I should have way more free time and I already have the next chapter almost done, so it's all good. **

**I wanted to thank you deeply for your support.**** I've recently found out that Stefanie has been promoting my work on twitter, and knowing there's someone out there that appreciates my writing is so heartwarming. I keep debating whether or not I should get Twitter, but in the meantime, you can always DM me here. But of course, my biggest thank you always goes to by beta, for always hearing me and helping me out. Love you, Stef. **

**G-**

**Chapter 14: Victory pain**

Things had escalated pretty quickly. One moment they were cuddled up on the couch, laughing over the unfinished boxes of Thai food, and the next they were all over each other. Pad Thai long forgotten and discarded on the floor, Harvey now hovered above Donna, slipping his tongue in her mouth and his fingertips under her silk top.

The whole thing felt surreal.

It wasn't like they had never had sex before because they had — two times actually. The first had been all excitement, discovery, and fun, while the second had been all passion, comfort, and longing. This time, though, felt different than all the others. There wasn't uncertainty or blinding lust that led them to reckless abandon. It felt natural, familiar, and right, like they had always spent their Thursday nights doing that. And yet, they hadn't, and because of that, there was still the fluttering in their stomachs from something new.

But none of that brushed Donna's mind for a second. Instead, what the little voice that nagged her head kept screaming was that the last time they had done it, they had made a baby. She couldn't exactly pinpoint when the thought occurred to her, but it was resulting in a big turn off for her.

Last time he had kissed her neck, she had later peed on a stick.

Last time he had palmed her breasts, she had later felt light kicks against her bellybutton.

Last time he had parted her legs with his knee, she had later had a fetus removed from her uterus.

Every little detail related to their intimacy was now inevitably linked to her miscarriage.

Harvey sensed that something was off, from the way Donna wasn't responding to his touch and the way she suddenly felt tense in his arms. No matter how hard he tried to get her in the mood — looking her in the eyes and letting her know he was completely committed to _her_, and not just her body — she just seemed miles away. The idea of doing something even close to imposing made him stop instantly.

"You don't want this," Harvey said, trying to disentangle himself from her.

"No, Harvey, of course, I want this." Donna grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him back to her. "Keep going."

Harvey just eyed her suspiciously. "Donna, don't even try it. If you want to wait that's completely fine, but don't pretend that you feel like doing it now." The feeling of rejection stung, and that made his response a little bit too prickly. But he was never to force her into something she didn't want only to please him. He just wanted her to be in the moment with him, _longed_ for that kind of connection again.

"I'm sorry, it's just... I don't…" Donna was defensive, lowering her gaze to Harvey's torso, instead of his eyes.

Harvey framed her face — her apology being more than he could bear — to try and reinforce his words. "Donna, you don't have anything to be sorry about. Come on," he said, stretching his hand and helping her to sit up straight. "Let's go to bed."

Donna's heart swelled with love for the man currently tugging a strand of hair behind her ear with such respect and care. She told herself some good sleep will fix everything, but when dreams turned into nightmares, that wasn't the case.

* * *

_Donna saw him standing near the playground, watching the long, red, plastic slide intently. He had never shown interest in it — yes, he loved the adrenaline the swing provided, and expressing his creativity by building sandcastles, but he had always been terrified of the slide. And yet, for a second, Donna thought that he was finally ready — ready to overcome his fear. She was even about to get up and help him climb the stairs — because he still was her baby._

_But, fortunately for her, he quickly turned to one of his playmates and started chasing her around. Donna sighed with relief — that wasn't the day he would grow up even more than he already had. That little obstacle was one of the many things that reminded her of how he still needed her. It was an ambivalent feeling — being the one he always turned to with questions, seeking answers. Because most of the time, she simply didn't have them. But even though the fear of screwing him up was always at the forefront of her mind, she knew that once he wouldn't turn to her anymore, she would be overwhelmed by proudness, but sadness first and foremost._

_As she looked at him stumbling over his uncertain steps, she knew she still had time._

_They had all the time in the world._

_She felt a wave of warmth washing over her, swelling her chest with love and tenderness for her baby boy. It was a bright and sunny morning, although she couldn't exactly pinpoint what day of the week it was. It didn't matter — whether it was a working day or the weekend, she knew Harvey would join her soon. He always made time for them._

_The rather fresh breeze blew gently, taking the smell of just mowed lawn to her nostrils. The characteristic scent of grass and morning dew delighted her senses, making her slip into a peaceful and loose state of mind. When a ray of sun grazed her face, she knew she was a goner, as she let her eyelids flutter closed. After a few seconds, she felt a hand settling on her shoulder. She immediately grinned at the contact, not even bothering to open her eyes._

_"Enjoying the sun?" Harvey's smug voice traveled to her ears. Relying only on the touch, she felt him everywhere. "I think you insist on coming here more for yourself than for him."_

_"Mh," she moaned, "that's debatable."_

_Donna smiled before she felt his soft and slightly wet lips grazing hers. The kiss was chaste enough, but it managed to stir something deep inside of her nonetheless. Nothing carnal or lustful — not prominently anyway — just stark and simple affection. She cracked one eye open, peeking at him, who was surrounded by an ethereal glow from the sun shining behind his back._

_"Where is he, by the way?" Harvey questioned, threading his fingers through her slightly shorter tresses. She had a feeling this moment would come, and being a mom included not having time to deal with long hair._

_Donna sat up straighter, casting her eyes upon the playground area. "Just right th—" she stopped, noticing the space in front of her now completely empty. "He was right there," she murmured, mostly to herself._

_"What you mean?" Harvey frowned._

_"He was just right there." Donna pointed to the slide nearby._

_Her eyes roamed frantically over the playground, hoping that her son would somehow materialize._

_He didn't._

_There was no one there._

_She had lost him._

_"Donna," Harvey repeated sternly, urging her to look at him, "Where is he?"_

_His eyes were blazing, full of disdain, fear, and rage. It was clear that she had disappointed him again, and now she couldn't bare his inquisitorial gaze, pleading her to fix the mess she had created in the first place. Donna instantly felt the load of a thousand bricks weighing over her chest, as panic took over and she started rambling incoherently. Blinding trepidation swallowed her whole._

_"How could you do it, Donna?" Harvey said, the defeat making his vocal cords tremble. "You had one job! You couldn't even look after your son for three seconds?" Donna's head began to spin violently, as her vision filled with black and white dots. Nonetheless, Harvey didn't seem willing to have mercy and let her off the hook. "It's all your fault, Donna. You weren't cut out to be a mother and you knew it! How could you be so selfish?"_

_Harvey kept pressing her until Donna's knees gave in and she fell to the ground._

"Donna, do you hear me?" His voice seemed distant now. "Donna, do you hear me? Donna!"

Donna jolted awake, covered in a cold sweat and shaking like a leaf. Breathing didn't seem like a plausible option, giving that her lungs were constricted, almost if trying to punish her by not letting any air in or out. No matter how many times she had woken up like this, disoriented and trembling, she would never get used to this feeling. This constant anxiety that clouded her mind — from the second she opened her eyes in the morning to the second she closed them at night — made her feel like she was sleepwalking all the time. And the worst thing was that she felt completely helpless as if she couldn't escape her own anxiety.

Sure, Lipschitz had helped her analyze some things. He had even suggested some medication — all-natural herbs, nothing aggressive or addictive — but she still refused to fall for that. Everything was spiraling out of her control anyway, and that would feel like an additional loss of consciousness.

Harvey had sensed her squirming beside him, not being able to fall asleep completely, and always keeping his eyes open. The first few nights he would just be violently woken up by her nightmares, but he had found out it was better to be always vigilant rather than being jolted awake at four a.m.

"Donna," he murmured softly, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Donna, you're ok. It was just a nightmare. None of that was real."

But that was the whole point — it _was _real. At least, the sense of complete ineptitude and inadequacy felt fucking real. Like a second skin, she was so adamantly trying to peel off. But the abrasive side kept sticking to her, and the more she attempted to get rid of it, the more it scratched.

Donna threw the comforter off since her body felt like it was boiling. She dangled her feet above the cool marble floor. The contrast between her warm feet and the cold tile sent a shiver up her spine.

"Donna, let's get you back to bed. Come on," Harvey pled, as Donna started pacing around the room, moving fanatically in an endless pattern. She tried to even her breathing and quell the impending nausea, but everything she attempted to do to feel better just resulted in making things a thousand times worse.

Harvey just sat in bed, the comforter thrown in his lap a good thirty seconds before, but he hadn't dared to move it yet. He wasn't sure whether his touch would be considered a soothing effort or just an invasion of her personal space. And remembering her distress of just a few hours prior only forced him to stay rooted to his spot. But witnessing her fighting with herself was just too gut-wrenching to see without doing anything about it.

"That's it," Harvey announced. He got up and strode out of the bedroom.

Donna's heart only started increasing in speed, thorn by his sudden impatience. But before she could venture in any more terrifying scenarios, he emerged from the darkness.

"Come on. Wear this and find a pair of comfortable shoes. We're going out," he announced, handing her a jacket while stepping into his running shoes. The collected and carefree tone of his voice threw her off guard. It was like a normal Saturday morning, as if they were opting for a casual walk to fight the monotony of the day.

Donna looked at him in disbelief. She still had a hand over her racing heart, but she was trying to find a way out of her haze. She glanced at the clock on his side of the bed; the digital numbers and the moonlight creeping through the gaps of the blinds being the only source of light. "Harvey, it's nearly three a.m.," she choked on her own words, the prospect of trying to catch sleep again terrifying her.

"So?" he responded, slightly shrugging his shoulders, like he had just suggested the most normal thing in the world.

Donna was transfixed. "We can't go out now."

"Why? You're thinking too much. We need you to stop thinking for a second. Your mind needs to shut off, and some fresh air will do that."

"No, Harvey. I'm sorry, I promise, I'm already feeling better. Come on, let's get back to bed," Donna motioned to the messed up sheets, feeling exhausted.

"Until you wake up from another nightmare? No, thanks," Harvey said — no bite in his words, just pure objectivity. He resumed his dressing up before looking at Donna's form, still clad in pajamas.

"We can't get out now. You have to work tomorrow," the redhead reminded him.

"Seriously? Who even cares? I'll text Jessica and she'll read it in the morning."

"But—"

"Donna, put some damn shoes on and follow me out of that door, or I swear I'll pick you up and make you walk around barefoot."

* * *

"Really? I said comfortable shoes, and that's what you went with?" Harvey not so gently mocked Donna's leather boots.

"Well, it's not like you gave me enough time to make a better choice," Donna complained. "Plus, these were the only ones at your place that didn't have heels," she grumbled, kicking her shoes on the dashboard.

Donna was a classy woman, stylish, sophisticated, and tasteful. She managed to fit into every possible context with grace — a quality of hers Harvey had always admired. She moved seamlessly through every room — from an informal dinner with a client to a fancy gala with the high society. She seemed born to measure every situation, charming everyone with her effortless charisma. But in all the years he had known her, Harvey had been lucky enough to spy what Donna Roberta Paulsen was like when the curtain came down. He had seen her drink a whole can of beer in only two breaths, eating cereals from the box, and sitting in the most unceremonious ways. When she wasn't at work, she could hardly keep a straight posture, often curling her legs under her or propping her foot on the chair. Those very rare moments were the ones he cherished the most, and even now, weeks into their relationship, it just caught him the littlest bit off guard, seeing her so comfortable around him. It was like an invite into her most intimate dimension, and it thrilled Harvey more than he cared to admit.

"Uh uh, put your feet down," Harvey scolded her, knocking her feet down with a light slap.

"Seriously? You basically dragged me into this goddamn car in the middle of the night and I can't even get myself comfortable?"

"We wouldn't be here if you didn't wake us both in the middle of the night. But we're not pointing any fingers."

"Asshole," she murmured against the heel of her hand.

"What did you just called me?" Harvey feigned an outraged expression. He put a hand over his heart as if she had hurt him with her insult.

"I think we both know what I just called you."

Harvey had been driving for over forty-five minutes, up to the point that Donna had long lost the notion of where they were headed to. She had tried to ask him, multiple times, but she was growing more and more convinced that Harvey himself had no clue. The truth was, he just had to feel inspired. He did have a few aces up his sleeve — some very nice spots he had downright always craved to show her — he just had to choose the right one. Still, that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy making Donna squirm and mull over her assumptions. It rarely happened that she hadn't everything perfectly planned, and he was proudly leading the way this time.

"If you just wanted to get rid of me, you didn't have to bother driving to the woods to hide my body. You could have easily gone with some good old poisoning, that would have saved you fuel," Donna kid, attempting to hide her annoyance behind a joke. She hadn't waited a minute to let him know how much this whole impromptu trip was bothering her.

She had spent the entire road trip with a pout, looking out of the window. It felt like being in the company of a young Donna. He could almost picture her — a sassy, teenage redhead slumped in her seat and bothered by a forced trip with her parents instead of theatre camp.

"How would you know the benefits of poisoning?" Harvey snapped his head towards her, as his eyes went wide. She would even dare to describe him as scared.

"Eyes on the road!" She bumped against his shoulder, urging him to focus on the driving. "It's the middle of the night and you can't even see clearly during the day."

"Now, that's not true at all," Harvey couldn't help but side-glance her, quickly but effectively, as if he needed his eyes to make the concept clearer. And in a way, it was true — he had always spoken through his body.

"I've been telling you to buy glasses for over three years," she reprimanded him.

Harvey scoffed, "I don't need glasses."

"Yes, you do. Remember how you read 'G' when it was clearly an 'O'?"

"And I rest with my theory. You clearly bribed the ophthalmologist."

"Whatever, old man…" she trailed off.

In a matter of seconds, Harvey abruptly stopped the car. The blowback of the impact yanked her forward and then the seat belt pulled her into the back of her seat. She frowned scanning the surroundings, not being able to see anything apart from massive trees and rocks. It certainly felt a whole lot like the perfect scenario to drop a dead body and be sure no one would find it.

"You aren't going to leave me in the woods for real, are you?" she asked, humor meeting her cautious tone. "Because if that's the case, I take back everything I've said."

Donna craned her neck in hopes to see any signs of the urban area — the lights of the lampposts down the crowded streets, or the hustle and bustle of the nightlife up in the skyscrapers. New York, after all, was the city that never slept. But now she was far away from the lively metropolis she knew. All there was in sight were darkness, wilderness, and mosquitos. _Lots of mosquitos._

Harvey climbed out of the vehicle, pushing himself off the seat and throwing his right leg over the car door. With one agile hop, he landed right on the grass. "Get out of the car," he encouraged her, making his way to Donna's side and opening the front door for her.

Donna reluctantly obliged, feeling utterly disgusted once her boot sank in the fresh soil. Raising her gaze from the mud, she noticed Harvey's silhouette moving with fast steps deeper into the woods. She picked up the pace to match his own, eventually closing the gap between them. They were just a few feet from where the parking lot was located on the southbound side of the road, but the further they walked, the more she was inclined to turn around.

"You know, someone might as well steal your car," she gestured to the Ferrari left undisturbed behind them with her thumb.

"Keep walking, you lazy ass," Harvey kept marching ahead of her, almost fastening his pace on purpose whenever she got closer.

Harvey hadn't even deigned to tell her where they were headed to, apart from the middle of _nowhere. _She had her answer looking at the wooden stake at the beginning of the trailhead, carved with some old, drained white painting — Breakneck Ridge.

Breakneck Ridge was one of those stops just an hour north of the city, on the west side of Route 9D near the tunnel. Beautiful in all seasons, it's a hiking trail that snakes around a mountain on the Hudson River, and it's generally considered one of the toughest hikes in the East Hudson Highlands. It involves a lot of scrambling over steep rocks, but it's totally worth it. At least for athletic people, certainly not for Donna. She rarely even went home by feet, and she wasn't about to discover the pleasure of the cold mountain air against sweaty skin and the feeling of accomplishment after four hours of breaking her back.

She tried to dissuade him from the spontaneous trip in the uncontaminated nature, but the more she walked the more she realized he was using the classic carrot and stick approach — letting her chase something she wanted until he got what he wanted.

"You know, I'd never take you for one of those men," Donna panted, getting short of breath.

"What men?" Harvey asked, never ceasing his walking.

"The kind of men who bring their women to a hike in the woods at—" she paused momentarily, checking her watch. "At a time it's so dark I can't even read these freaking numbers."

"Watch your step," he warned, and Donna automatically lowered her gaze to the brushwood illuminated by the torch of her phone.

"Why? Do I have to worry about stepping on a snake?"

"Well, not exactly a snake. Maybe a tarantula," Harvey said, his voice flat and lacking any humor.

Donna laughed heartily at the statement.

"I'm not kidding."

The redhead's lips curved upwards quickly fall downwards, her face taking on a somber and frightened expression. She still thought he might be messing with her, but the feeling of suddenly walking on a minefield settled into her gut regardless. "Please tell me you're kidding when you say you're not kidding."

Harvey just kept climbing up, a huge grin spreading across his features.

In a matter of seconds, Donna became hypersensitive about everything — the rustling of fallen leaves, the chirping of the birds, and soon she felt a strange movement under her feet. She yelped, lunging forward and seeking protection in Harvey's arms. He was incredibly surprised by this unexpectedly vulnerable side of her — the damsel in distress. He found it surprisingly cute and incredibly empowering for his ego.

"Oh, don't make that face," Donna commented on his smug expression. "I thought there was…"

"A tarantula?"

"Shut up."

* * *

It took them about 20 minutes to reach the first panoramic view — a rock ledge marked by a flagpole. The views up and down the river from that point were spectacular, and Donna found herself almost wanting to continue the strenuous climb. Not that she'd ever admitted that.

Harvey easily found a leveled rock where they could rest. Too easily, like he already knew where to find it. Little did Donna know, that this was one of his favorite spots. He had gone there the night Mike had been arrested, one night that he was reminded of his father, and many many nights before. But that was a story for another time.

The couple sat down, feeling a strange tingling in their calves, symptom of their previous hike. But the bright side was that the physical effort had made it possible to not overthink the demons that were haunting them, leaving her with a lot of endorphins and sated. And even if Donna would never give Harvey the satisfaction of acknowledging he was right, she had to give it to him — this was exactly what she needed.

Even if most of the nature was surrounded by darkness, the view was equally beautiful. The moonlight was reflected on the water of the Hudson River, painting the crest of the small waves with a milky glow. They were almost totally surrounded by silence, a sign of the whole world sleeping soundly, and there was something poetically beautiful in that. But the silence also urged her to say something. Even though the prospect of fidgeting with her own fingers sounded very appealing, she thought that if she was the first one to speak, she would have some sort of control. The control she was so desperate to find again. The control Harvey would inevitably take away from her the moment he would try to make her open up to him.

"I know you're probably expecting me to say something. To tell you what I dreamed about. But I just— I don't want to." Donna watched her hands clasped together in her lap, before diverting her gaze to the horizon.

Harvey just nodded.

After several seconds of silence, he decided to break it. "I'm heartbroken." Harvey gave a piece of himself as a peace offering. "I'm heartbroken, but— I've never told you. Because I promised myself to put your well-being above everything else. And I do, but— I can't pretend I'm not heartbroken too. And I feel like I don't have the right to feel that way since you've been the one who got pregnant, and then lost it. And yet, it's like—," he struggled to find the right words. Harvey had never been good at this kind of thing — fathom the layers of his mind, plumb the depths, and dredge up something from the inside. But now that he had taken the plunge, he needed to deflate by letting it all out. He just needed to organize his thoughts. "Like I have this— this hole, this _void _in my chest, that feels like it won't go away. Ever."

Donna patiently listened to him, knowing she probably shouldn't feel relieved by his words, but she did. She felt his pain, and he felt hers, the _same _pain. There was somebody else in that messy world that could _really _understand what she was going through, and that somebody else had been by her side all this time. It hadn't been right to monopolize their grief.

"I was at the park," Donna began speaking softly, "with our son." Donna's voice cracked at the word _son_, and— _damn it, _that was going to be harder than she thought. "Did I ever tell you I had thought about naming him Gordon?"

"I didn't even know it was a boy," Harvey murmured like it was some kind of secret. "You really would have named him after my dad?"

Donna simply bobbed her head up and down. "The baby in the dream, I don't know... it felt like a Gordon. I got distracted for a second, and then he was gone. And you got so mad at me, you were— it was like you could barely look at me. The whole world was spiraling out of control, and no matter how hard I tried to fix things, they just got worse. And you had never been so unmoved by my pain, but it's not like I could blame you."

Harvey finally turned his head to look at her, engulfed by darkness, both emotionally and physically. But she had never looked so beautiful. It was like he had lost sight of her for a second and the next she had changed. There was Donna — the young and loyal companion of many adventures — and Donna — the grown woman who was turning her hurt into experience and strength.

"Donna, you know I don't blame you for what happened."

She didn't say a word, but wiped a tear running down her cheek.

"But you blame yourself," Harvey deducted. "You know who should be blamed?" he said, scooting closer to her. "Frank Gallo. And he's paying for it, but I to swear you that not a single day will go by that he doesn't suffer for what he took away from us."

Donna remained silent, and Harvey thought she might need a moment to process it all. He cleared his throat awkwardly as she kept gazing at the view. Thirty seconds passed by, or maybe thirty minutes, in which it seemed like she had a whole conversation with herself.

She stood up abruptly, sighing, "Fuck Frank Gallo."

"You're right," Harvey said with a snicker. "Fuck him."

Donna took a couple of steps forward, approaching the edge of the cliff. She inhaled a deep breath before shouting into the void, "Fuck Frank Gallo!"

"Fuck you!" Harvey mirrored her.

"Fuck you!" they both yelled with stark fury, and yet, chuckling wholeheartedly once they were done.

They conveyed all the tension, rage, and heartache that had accumulated in those weeks into the swear, setting their souls free. It felt renewing. Because even if the pain was most certainly still there, this was their battle and they were winning. This was their victory pain

* * *

**Thank you so much for reading. Just a few things before wrapping up: ****first, I have no idea how hikes at Breakneck Ridge work, pretty sure you can't go there in the middle of the night or climb steep rocks that easily, but I've done my research and I'm pretty satisfied in general. Second, I like to think that Harvey would have taken Donna there with the same car he was driving when he asked P*ula out. Just because that's a freaking Ferrari and deserves recognition, possibly linked with a good memory. How he would get that in the middle of the night? It's none of our business.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Hi guys, **

**I'm just one day later than usual, so that's better. Right? :) **

**I'm just overwhelmed by the reviews some of you leave. Granted I love them all, but some of you just take time to tell me exactly what they liked and what they think about the story and my writing, and let me tell you, this is the best part of it all. Some of my favorite writers enjoy my work, and it makes me feel grateful.**

**I cannot thank Stefanie enough, because she had very little free time and still gave me a big help with the chapter. It's an important one, because I needed to pull the last strings to make a jump into the near future...**

**Hope you enjoy!**

**G-**

**Chapter 15: Do ut des**

"So." Stan Lipschitz placed his glasses on the bridge of his nose — an action Donna had grown extremely familiar with. Sometimes she thought it might bother the doctor, being analyzed by his own patient, but it wasn't like she could help it. She could, but if she was completely honest, she didn't even want to. "You're going back to work."

"I am." Donna nodded her head and broke into a mild smile.

"And how does that make you feel?" Stan tilted his head. "When you think about going into that building again… how does that make you feel?"

Donna had expected that specific question. There was nothing random about that session, scheduled by Harvey unbeknownst to her, the same morning she was supposed to get back to work. But knowing what was coming and actually facing it were two completely different things. The question made her tense, and the idea of having to discuss her fears yet again made her stomach flip.

"Donna?" Stan pressed when she failed to respond.

The redhead wiped her clammy hands on her white jeans as her jaw locked with tension. "Nothing." She shrugged.

"Nothing?" The doctor looked at her skeptically. "The firm is the place where that man shot you, the place where you almost died… I find it hard to believe you don't feel anything."

Even if she was emotionally drained, Donna mustered up the strength to keep up with the conversation.

"I'm not lying or bottling it up. I'm genuinely… not feeling anything," she replied after a beat, quite annoyed by the line of questioning. "Is that so hard to believe? Maybe it's a good thing."

Stan shook his head. "You see, it's more likely to me that you are just not processing it. Perhaps it's possible you're keeping yourself from actually feeling something in order to protect yourself?" he summoned.

Donna bit her inner cheek, musing over the psychiatrist's words and trying to understand whether or not the description fit her. "I guess…" She blew out a breath. "I guess it could be."

"Good. I can't force you to work on an issue that hasn't presented itself yet. Some people take longer than others to process. As long as you're fine now, I'd say we can wrap this up. We'll deal with it when we'll have to."

_When we'll have to._

Donna mulled over the doctor's words. Was it possible that she would need even more time to heal? How long would she have to wait before going back to her old self? Would that even be possible?

In that specific moment, in that cruel and arbitrary world, Donna felt completely numb. She felt like she was sleepwalking all the time, and maybe it wasn't exactly the definition of healthy, but at least she wasn't in pain. Maybe, just maybe, ignorance really was bliss and she could just pretend to be happy living that way.

Was she supposed to shake like a leaf and walk around the firm like the shooter might come out of a door any minute? Of course not.

Donna got out of Lipschitz's office, took her time nursing a generous cup of coffee, and got ready to face the day. It was just a damn building, and walking across the lobby, and taking the elevator to the fiftieth floor felt like every other time she had done it in the past decade.

Even when the lift doors opened to the plaque of the Pearson Specter Litt offices, it didn't feel like an earth-shattering or life-changing obstacle.

Donna began to think that maybe Lipschitz was wrong. Maybe she _was _fine with how things were, and she hadn't undergone any trauma that would cause her to be paranoid in her working place. Maybe the rational part of her brain understood that there was no threat anymore and she could just relax.

She came back to work, and so far so good. Everything seemed exactly the same, like no single day had passed. Even the bullet holes had been plastered on the walls. Walls, that Jessica had ultimately decided to paint in a slightly lighter shade to signal a brighter new beginning.

Yes, everything felt perfectly ordinary… except it wasn't.

Stu didn't work there anymore — too torn after what he and the other traders had been through, he had decided it would have been better to find a new lessor. Pearson Specter Litt was now the reminder of the day he had lost his friends and colleagues, and he just couldn't bear feeling surrounded by fear anymore. He had been one of the few that hadn't been able to move past it.

Jessica was about to fly off to Chicago to start a new life with Jeff. She had summoned the other name partners in her office one night and had disclosed that she had been thinking about moving before the shooting happened. She had been drained down to the last drop of sweat and tears she had left, fighting first for Mike Ross and then for Leonard Bailey, up to the point she forgot why she had even become a lawyer. She needed to step down, for her own sake and had decided to wait until things got a little less crazy before leaving. And now it was time.

Frankly, Donna couldn't exactly blame the ex-managing partner for her choice. She knew Jessica's decision had been a tough one, dictated by need more than by want, but Donna couldn't help but envy the breath of fresh air that seemed to await everybody but her.

Most people looked at the ones who had stuck around as survivors, blessed by some work of a divine hand and chosen to be still walking the earth either for virtue or by accident. But the truth was that they felt more like victims, rather than survivors. No one could pretend to feel grateful for the mercy shown to them and act like nothing ever happened. Because something _had _happened.

Strolling down the corridors of the firm with as much confidence as she could muster up, Donna couldn't help but notice the looks people threw at her — people that to a vast majority she didn't know.

Jessica had worked her butt off to repopulate the firm, but Donna hadn't been there to charm the new partners, and now she couldn't help but feel a little out of place.

"Oh my goodness, is that a vision?" Donna heard from behind her back.

She quickly turned around to see Louis with a giant smile plastered on his face, his arms opened and welcoming as he strode towards her. She couldn't help but appreciate the cheerful and sincere greeting, accepting the hug with gratitude and squeezing her friend with equal joy.

"I can't believe you're back!" Louis murmured in her ear.

Donna pulled back a little, "Yeah, me neither."

"This place wasn't the same without you."

Donna simply nodded her head in silent acknowledgment, a little overwhelmed with the heartwarming welcome. Louis' own eyes prickled with tears and the redhead's chest bubbled with amusement at her friend's usual emotionality.

"Come on, Louis." She chuckled softly.

"No, it's just…" He sniffled in the middle of the hallway. "I thought you were about to die several weeks ago, and now here you are, glowing and radiant as ever. And I'm just so— Hey! What are you looking at?" He stopped abruptly to yell at a partner who had eyed him curiously. "Can't a grown man show his vulnerability in a common space? It's for misogynists like you that we don't feel empowered enough—"

"Alright," Donna chimed in to stop him from ripping the man's head off, "I'm sure this gentleman here wasn't implying anything. Why don't you walk me to my cubicle?" She stirred him in the direction of Harvey's office, throwing an apologetic look behind her shoulder to the now traumatized middle-aged man.

"I can feel my blood pressure rising… do you think Harvey has a sphygmomanometer by any chance?"

"I think we can arrange something…"

* * *

Even though her initial return was victorious, Donna found herself seated opposite Stan Lipschitz again the next morning.

"You're not at work today," Stan Lipschitz pointed out.

"I'm not at work today," Donna conceded with a defeated smile.

"And is there any chance that it may be linked to the fact you have requested a last-minute appointment?"

"I think we do have something to deal with after all," Donna nodded in shame, eyes cast to the floor. "I had an… episode."

"Episode," Stan repeated, intrigued by the choice of words. "What kind of episode."

"I had a… ehm— There was…" Donna stumbled, explaining what had happened at the firm the previous morning.

* * *

_Everything had been perfectly fine, so fine she had even stopped thinking about the whirlwind of ordeals her life had ultimately been._

_The entire morning she had been engrossed in catching up with the amount of paperwork that had piled up during her long absence, typing motion after motion — everything from restraining orders to environmental hazard reports. She had begun to feel useful and productive again. _

_Until lunch hour arrived and she thought about asking Rachel to join her. The brunette had told her she would have loved to but had to get some book from the library to find a precedent for a case. She had suggested Donna grabbed it for her and then they could head out for some well-deserved time off. Donna had been so happy that Rachel hadn't tip-toed around her and hadn't treated her like she was some little birdie fresh out of the nest, that her excitement made her forget about the actual place she was about to face. _

_She hadn't set a foot in the Pearson Specter Litt library since the shooting, but when she found herself standing on the threshold, she told herself to just go with it. She had been serene and unperturbed all morning, so why losing her cool over a simple room? _

_She moved between the crowd of partners and assistants towards a shelf, grabbed a record that was heavy, approximatively half her body-weight, and proudly went to make her way out of there. _

_Until something switched. _

_A loud thud traveled to her ears, probably some manual fallen to the ground, being dropped by some clumsy first-year associate, and the loud noise brought her back to that traumatic moment that had occurred in that same room, weeks ago. _

_**Her body was the closest to the weapon, and she could feel its proximity as well as the clanging of the metal object shifting in the man's hands. It would only take one brief flick of his index finger, and a bullet would split her chest in two.**_

_Donna felt the same surge of fear taking over her. _

_**He looked at his enemy with his glacial eyes, void of any emotion except for pure and stark hatred. "Time's up," he declared, pulling the trigger. Donna jumped in front of Harvey and took the bullet for him.**_

_Donna heard the same piercing noise now. In a haste, she sought refuge under a desk. _

_**It hurt. Lord knew it hurt. The kind of hurt that made it difficult to breathe, move, or even think. But what was different from any other kind of pain, was the trauma to her system. It was the major impact that hazed her judgment and overshadowed the stark, physical pain.**_

_Donna felt the same unbearable pain, numbing her limbs._

_**Donna was beginning to doze off, given that it was becoming increasingly difficult to stay focused, as a cloud of fog engulfed her vision. Ironically, she could see his haunted and defeated eyes with stark clarity as they spilled a pool of tears. "Donna, stay awake." He shook her body, and Donna supposed her heavy eyelids were shutting down. "Stay awake!"**_

_Donna felt the same helplessness she had experienced, laying on the ground now._

* * *

"I hid under a desk at the firm's library."

"I see…" Stan scribbled something in his notebook, then put his pen in between the pages and closed it in his lap. "And why did you do that?"

"I got scared."

Donna had never endured something so frightening in her life, except, of course, for the actual time she got shot. Only that could measure up. And yet, this time there wasn't a psychopath prompting her to look at the barrel of a gun, just her panic taking hold of her rational self and clouding her judgment. Not trusting herself to discern paranoia from reality was probably the most disconcerting thing Donna could think of. In addition, being unable to move — being literally paralyzed by her own fear — reached a whole new level of absurdity.

"Scared of what?" Stan inquired.

"I— I heard a loud noise and my mind immediately went to the shooting. It was like I was there, I felt— I felt like _he_ was there and… alright, I knew that he wasn't there. I'm not crazy," Donna suddenly got defensive, like she had something to be ashamed of and therefore she had to explain herself.

"No one said you were." Lipschitz smiled at her.

"I know and it's like… I _know _he wasn't there, except… except it felt an awful lot like he was." Donna started worrying her bottom lip, feeling the familiar panic rising yet again as her stomach flipped.

"Donna, what you have experienced is basically textbook. PTSD symptoms may include flashbacks, nightmares and severe anxiety, as well as uncontrollable thoughts about the event."

"PTSD?"

"Post-traumatic str—"

"I know what PTSD is." Donna waved her hands, dismissing him. "I just— do you really think I have it?"

"Not only veterans or kidnap victims suffer from it… it's very common and it definitely affects people in different ways," Stan explained, while Donna just let it all sink in. "I recommend we take the matter into our own hands immediately and we get on the offensive. I want you to go back to that library tomorrow, this time when no one can distract you, and acquire familiarity with the space again. Stay there until the fear will be gone and you will just be bored."

So Donna did what she had been told, following the orders of the doctor diligently.

She was resolute and ready to get rid of the binding fright that was taking her prisoner. Nevertheless, the longer she stood in the middle of the room, the more she felt like she was losing her battle — the battle against her irrational side.

She felt disconnected, like everything that surrounded her was perceived as distant and strange. The impossibility of accessing the objectivity she craved so much — giving that everything was coated by a halo of darkness — made things only worse, incrementing her anxiety and taking her breath away. She was bubbled into this dimension of hands constantly drenched with sweat and her heart seeming to burst out of her chest.

The whole feeling left her lightheaded, but fortunately, two big arms slid around her waist from behind, squeezing her hard against a marmoreal chest and making her feel grounded.

Donna let her eyes drift close as a breath of relief left her lips.

"Already too bored to stay within these four walls?" Harvey whispered the words in her ear, causing goosebumps to rise in their wake. He could feel her trembling in his tight embrace, but he hoped some old-fashioned humor would cheer her up.

Donna's hands joined Harvey's, intertwining her fingers with his. "Not exactly." It came out all breathy and shaky.

"Alright, then I guess I'll just keep holding you until you are."

"Yes, please," Donna almost welled up for how glad she was about his presence. With Harvey suddenly nothing felt so scary anymore.

"But just so you know, I've planned some very tasty and fancy dinner, so you'd better hurry up. No pressure, just... keep that in mind," Harvey joked, kissing that soft hidden spot under her ear.

It seemed impossible, but Donna felt the paralyzing fear leaving her body, little by little. The tighter Harvey hugged her, the quicker she sensed her pulse going back to normal. And it was in that specific moment that she _fully _understood how big Harvey's role in her recovery was. After years and years of denial and self-distancing, she now couldn't fathom the idea of not being held by him like that. Because half-declarations and stolen glances at some point weren't just enough. And falling into that kind of intimacy had been natural, so much that she often found herself wondering how the aftermath of the shooting would have been without Harvey's never-ending support.

She thought she could never repay him or thank him enough for helping her to find herself again.

* * *

It was late. Not late like the middle of the night, but also late enough that almost no one was left on the fiftieth floor.

The working week had come to an end, and those days of coming back to a very tortuous reality had made Donna reconsider a few things.

Donna lingered on her seat, moving her hands to the armrests to push herself up, but eventually changing her mind and dropping them to her sides. She had been telling herself she was just waiting for Harvey to pull the final strings so they could go home, but it was really using that time to decide whether or not she should confront him.

Her incapability of making a decision was unnerving, to say the least. She was Donna, and he was Harvey, and she had never been afraid to stand up for what she wanted.

Then why couldn't she muster up the strength to get up and talk to him? It was probably the fact that they were now in a relationship, and she didn't want him to go easy on her for what had happened. Or maybe she didn't want to put him in the position of choosing between his love for her and the responsibilities of his new position, one she knew he was finding really hard to manage. Jessica had left shoes too big to fill, and he had never felt like he could measure up.

The last thing he needed was to be thrown off his game on a whim. But Donna knew far too well that this wasn't an impulse — she had put a lot of thought into it, and she was tired of putting her needs on hold.

Her limbs finally gathered enough energy and will to actually respond to her brain, as she got off her chair and walked to Harvey's office door. She still dwelled on the threshold longer than she should have, but in the end, she took three purposeful strides and positioned herself in front of Harvey's desk.

Harvey tore his eyes from the document currently opened on his laptop, finding her eyes and immediately breaking into a smile at her presence. "Hey," he said softly.

"Hey," she parroted.

"I'm done for the night," he declared, prolonging the 'o' as he typed the last comma on his keyboard. "Do you want to head home?"

"Actually, you have one more appointment," Donna replied, suddenly feeling all the tension targeting her bladder and making her want to run to the bathroom. She began feeling restless, rocking back and forth on her heels, occasionally tapping her foot on the floor.

"Are you sure? Because there's nothing scheduled in my calendar," Harvey eyed her suspiciously, catching and recognizing her nervous shaking.

"It's kind of a last-minute thing." She squared her shoulders. "The appointment is with me."

"With you?" Harvey repeated, making sure he heard her correctly.

"I wanted to talk to you about something." Donna took a seat in front of him, slightly leaning against the backrest. Not too much that he wouldn't take her seriously, but enough to show him she came in peace.

Harvey threw her a soft smile for good measure. "Donna, you don't need to schedule an appointment to talk to me. We can go home and you can fill me in about whatever you want."

"No, I need to do this here. It's strictly business, and I need a… legal advice."

"You want me to be your lawyer?" Harvey couldn't help the shit-eating grin blooming on his lips.

"Yes," Donna stated, flat tone but followed by a roll of her eyes.

"I don't think you can afford me," he kid, tilting his head to the side.

If looks could kill, the one that Donna threw at him in that moment would have knocked him dead.

"Alright." He leaned back in his chair, buttoning his vest and clasping his hands on his desk like he did every time he was getting ready to listen to a client. That showed he was indeed taking the matter seriously and was ready to act solely and entirely professionally. He cleared his throat. "Shoot."

"You know about my product with Benjamin," Donna said, followed by a curt nod by Harvey. "Today I got a call from Stu, he said that he was impressed by it and he would be happy to be an investor. But it turns out we have a 32.5% overlap on our software with another company. They refused to budge and Louis said he pulled out every trick in the book to get us this."

Donna's slender and manicured fingers slid a sheet of paper onto the glass surface between them. Harvey accepted it without so much a word, as he took it in his hands and carefully read it. After a matter of seconds, still scanning the lines printed on the page, he spoke, "Can you get it under 30%?"

"No." Donna blew out a breath, moving a strand of hair out of her face.

Harvey finally looked up from the paperwork, meeting a cautious, yet hopeful expression plastered on Donna's face. The last thing he wanted was to add fuel to the fire, especially on such an emotional and sensitive subject. Dealing with Benjamin's legacy had only stressed her out since all she wanted to do was to bring justice to Benjamin's project, and all she did was run into problems. No matter how he felt about this whole thing though, he was willing to put it aside and be a hundred percent direct with her. "Then take the money." He couldn't help a sympathetic smile.

"I don't want the money." Donna shook her head, tears gathering and burning at the corner of her eyes. _Not professional at all._

"Donna—"

"I want something more. And I've never said that out loud, but I can't pretend that's not true anymore."

"What do you mean more?" Harvey questioned, almost afraid that the _more_ she so desperately needed wouldn't concern him, or that he wouldn't be able to give it to her. Harvey knew, and deep down had always known, that Donna deserved better. Gosh, she deserved the best, and sadly, Harvey was far from perfect. But he loved her like no one in the whole world, and if she asked for the moon, he wouldn't think twice about selling his soul to the devil to accomplish that.

He guessed his priorities had simply changed, and if before he had given her a hard time for putting herself first, now he would happily put his ego aside to help her find her way.

"Look, I am not the same person I was before. I've changed. Whether I wanted it or not, the shooting changed me. I watched a friend die in my arms, I had a miscarriage, I've been in pain and I've learned how to deal with it. And after you've had your chest cut in two, I don't know… I guess you change perspective," Donna tried to explain to him. She probably wasn't making much sense, even though in her mind everything was crystal clear. She didn't expect Harvey to understand, she just needed him to support her and hold her hand no matter what. "I can't go back to my old life and pretend it still fits me, because that's not my life anymore."

"What are you saying?" Harvey dared to ask.

"I love you, Harvey. And I want to be _with _you, but I just… don't want to work _for _you anymore. Today I've been sitting out there," Donna motioned to her cubicle, "afraid to come inside and bother you, and I don't want to feel that way again. It's what kept me from telling you about the baby in the first place, and I feel like I've been through too much to worry about that too. Something needs to change."

Other people's actions had always dictated her life — first Harvey, who had expected she just followed him to the ends of the world and took her for granted one too many times; then Gallo, who had taken her chance of being a mother away and had left her no choice but to glue the pieces of her shattered life back together.

She wasn't willing to play by other people's rules anymore. She wanted, _needed_ to take her life into her own hands. She wanted to be her own boss.

Harvey had never been really good at handling change. Change was the wave that crashed into the shore, wiping everything out, or a storm, scattering everything around and leaving only scraps of what was once before. He couldn't see it as the opportunity of a fresh start, and the beginning of a new life.

And yet, everything and everyone morphs, grows, develops. Change is natural. What's not natural is the way people obstinately try not to change, clinging to the past, and not allowing the natural flow of the events when change is the only constant.

However, how people experience change makes all the difference. If we just open our arms and get ready to embrace it, follow it, and trust it, change can feel like being born all over again.

Harvey had already lost against change once, letting it overpower him and drowning him in his own paranoia. This once, though, instead of wracking his brain over a solution to keep Donna attached to him, he tried to find a reason to make her stay.

"Become my COO," he proposed out loud all of the sudden.

"What?" Donna frowned.

It was a perfect fit. Donna had always been the one to maneuver behind the scenes, making sure everyone was at the top of their game. And she hadn't done it because of personal gain, but because she cared about their little family and because she believed in them. Making her COO would just be acknowledging what she had done for years without being recognized. If the firm was still standing, it was because she kept it running.

"You've said your priorities have changed, and I get that. You need and deserve more, and I'm willing to give it to you." Harvey gestured to the piece of paper sitting between them — a way to cut ties with the past and create a new opportunity at life.

Harvey was pleased with his proposal. Too pleased.

"Harvey, I appreciate the offer, but I don't want you to jump into something you don't really believe in just to make feel good. Sudden moves never got us anything good, and this feels pretty damn rushed," Donna exposed her fears reluctantly.

Harvey decided to unbutton his vest and make his way around the desk to sit on the edge next to her — a sign he was about to talk to her earnestly, but a little more personally. Breaking the boundaries between his role as a lawyer and as a boyfriend had never been so easy. He hooked his fingers under her chin, urging her head up and forcing her to make eye-contact with him.

"Donna, I've always believed in you. And maybe at first I didn't want to share you with the world, because being my secretary allowed me to keep you close the only way I knew how. But now, I know that whatever happens, we'll always go home together. So, if you want to take the leap, I'll support you."

"You're sure? Harvey, I can't afford you to be wrong about this. I need you to separate church and state, and be a hundred percent objective about this."

"Do you want this position?" Harvey asked solemnly.

"Damn right I do," she replied forcefully, but with a soft smile playing on her lips.

"Then take the role you should have taken ages ago." Harvey stood up and stretched out his hand, while Donna did the same and shook it forcefully, almost to make a statement. It wasn't a consolation prize and she was ready for it. "You're going to make one hell of a COO."

Donna mirrored his proud smile, squeezing his hand in a silent thank you. And then, something shifted. The air around them became thicker, as a bolt of electricity sparked between them, and they could feel it coursing from their joined hands to their entire bodies, spreading everywhere in a gentle hum. The flame ignited once their eyes locked and soon it grew until it developed into an unquenchable fire.

Harvey's pulse increased significantly, and Donna could feel it speed up under her fingertips, lightly brushing his wrist. He didn't know who dived in first, nor did he care. He just knew that in a matter of seconds, what had started as some innocent congratulation had quickly turned into insatiable need. The urgency of their newfound physical connection drew them towards each other as their lips crushed and fused together.

Donna's hands joined at the nape of Harvey's neck as she brought him closer and ran her fingers through his short hair. Harvey's hands immediately sneaked around her slim waist, feeling her hip bones, as he brushed them with his thumb through the fabric of her dress.

She had certainly lost a few pounds after her hospitalization and the stress she had been under. Not that she didn't look great now, but Harvey had a feeling she was finding it harder to acquire confidence with herself again. And while he didn't know where to begin to comfort her, he could certainly perceive that she was struggling. How could he blame her? Her body had been hosting a life, growing it, losing it, all the while being cut open in surgery.

No matter how bad he wanted her, Harvey would have never tried to speed things up and coax her into having sex with him when she didn't feel comfortable with her own body. So, having an idea of where things were going at that rate, he thought about pulling back to seek her permission. But it was actually Donna who broke their kiss, albeit reluctantly, and searched his eyes. Her own were windows to her soul, deep and dark filled with lust and love. She slightly nodded her head, and Harvey didn't need any more convincing before resuming their earlier activities.

They both didn't care they were in the middle of an office surrounded by glass — the threat of being caught made it all paradoxically more exciting.

Harvey pushed her against his desk, propping her up, and hiking her dress up her midsection, while she peppered his jaw with sloppy kisses and proceeded with removing his belt. A set of giggles filled the dimly lit room, as they tried to find their way between the mess on Harvey's desk, but all the fun stuff ended shortly after when the giggles were replaced by moans and groans.

When Harvey's hand traveled down the line of the long scar in the middle of her chest, almost trying to heal it with the featherlight touch of his fingertips, Donna felt herself pause for a moment. But she told herself she was in the safest place of all, in Harvey's arms, where she had always felt protected. No one had ever worshipped her body like he did, and in their newfound physical connection, she found a new surge of strength and confidence.

The scars were still there, both physically and emotionally, but with Harvey, she felt alive like she hadn't in a very long time. The world could collapse under their feet any minute, and it wouldn't matter, because with each other they would always be born again.


	16. Chapter 16

**Hi guys, **

**first of all, I wanted to thank Stefanie for putting so much effort in editing the chapter as quickly as possible, having to deal with a very stressful move. She never lets me down.**

**I hope you're still enjoying the fic and are keen to see where this is going, because with this chapter (that I want to remind you is set A YEAR AFTER LAST CHAPTER'S EVENTS) I am opening a pretty vital part of the entire story. Hope I can still surprise you and make you gasp! **

**G-**

**Chapter 16: Guess who's coming to dinner**

"Spatchcocking?"

"Nah, definitely dry-brining," Mike suggested, a hint of self-righteousness intelligible in his behavior. "Are you still bogged down to last year's trend?"

Donna shrugged. "How would I know? I ate Chinese last year."

"Chinese," Mike repeated mockingly.

"Thanksgiving's dumplings are special dumplings. Plus, Cheng always gifts me with extra fortune cookies," she pointed out for good measure.

"That's probably because he has a crush on you," Mike sing-sung.

"That was until he found out I'm involved. Then it kind of lost its charm."

"What lost its charm?" Harvey's voice chimed in from the threshold of Donna's office, interrupting the easy banter between the two friends.

Mike spun his head around, searching for the source of the interruption and jumping in at the first chance of teasing his good old mentor. "Just Cheng flirting with Donna," he said like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"The one who brings us sushi?" Harvey let himself into the office, while the question rolled off his tongue with ease.

Donna greeted him with a scornful smile, the corner of her lips tugging upwards involuntarily because of his silliness. Still, she decided to play along. "No, that's Takao."

"How many restaurant owners flirt with your wife?" Mike wondered out loud with a confused frown.

"I'm not his wife," Donna promptly jumped in. She just liked to tease her boyfriend goodnaturedly, yet mercilessly, about not having put a ring on her finger after a year of formal relationship, and thirteen of unformal one. Not that she really cared about it — at least that's what she liked to tell herself — she just enjoyed watching him go all red and flustered at the thought of marriage. Nevertheless, there was the slightest hint of disappointment hiding in her quips.

Harvey, on the contrary, didn't even bother correcting Mike's wrong statement. For him, at least, that title was just a formality — he had always considered himself somehow linked to Donna, even back when she had bangs and brought him coffees with vanilla. It wasn't like he didn't have any intention of making it official, because he did. He was just waiting for the right time. That's why he purposely ignored his ex-associate's slip of the tongue, giving Donna a taste of her own medicine, "Not even one anymore. They're too intimidated by me."

"Please," Donna scoffed, moving her hair behind her shoulder in one swift motion. "Cheng could destroy you with the flex of his finger." She rolled her eyes dramatically.

"I think he's a retired wrestler," Mike mused, rubbing his chin.

"Okay, do the two of you actually work in this place?"

"We were actually discussing Thanksgiving dinner," Mike filled Harvey in, looking at him from below and inviting him to take the open seat opposite Donna's desk. The older lawyer had to unbutton his vest, a result from one too many beers he had nursed watching a game last night.

"Easy," Harvey said with a shrug, before slumping down on the white leather cushions. "Turkey."

"How to roast it."

"Easy," Harvey repeated. "Oven."

"It's not that easy."

"It's _literally _that easy."

"There are like a thousand things to take care of: do we season it or not? Do we stuff it in the neck cavity or on the side in a casserole dish? Is it 325 °F or 350°F?"

"Are you done, Rachael Ray?" Harvey mocked Mike goodnaturedly. "When did you become such a fan of cooking, anyway?"

"It so happens that I'm engaged to a foodie. Any chance you remember her, Rachel Zane? Is he already starting to forget things?" Mike quipped right away, directing the last question straight to Donna, who eyed him in warning. "I might laugh at that, but we're actually the same age, so..."

Harvey smirked at the point taken in his favor. Three of his fingers tapped the armrest several times, mimicking a drum roll, and then he made his way to Donna for a celebratory kiss.

"Don't worry about dinner. Worst case scenario, we order a pizza." He pecked the top of her head, smoothing her red tresses down in the process — a motion that made Mike reconsider the joke about PDA on the tip of his tongue. The couple had never been one for public display of affection — not when they were just a platonic duo, neither a year into their relationship. But, if before it was only a matter of stolen glances and clipped brushes of hands, now that they loved each other openly, something had shifted. Of course, they were always subtle and well-poised, but there were moments like this one, with easy banter and good laughing, that made them loosen up and dwell in light touches.

"I love how you have faith in me." Donna smiled snarkily.

Truth was, Harvey did have faith in her. _In general_. But he didn't exactly trust her capability at throwing a housewarming party during Thanksgiving dinner.

Donna and Harvey had recently decided to purchase a new house, seeing no point in moving into either of their condos, and wanting a place to mold as they pleased. They were excited about the next natural step in their relationship and eager to find a new dimension in their life together. Donna had later gotten thrilled with the idea of a small gathering to show off their bright new house in the suburbs when Louis came up with the crazy idea of celebrating the upcoming holiday together. So their simple, casual, and laid back dinner became an elaborated, sophisticated, and formal Thanksgiving party. And while Donna had many qualities, being the perfect host wasn't one of them.

So Harvey, ever the proud and supportive partner, and knowing better than to fight Donna, encouraged her with a toothy smile but decided to keep the nearest pizzeria number on speed dial.

* * *

Rachel looped her arm around Mike's, an expensive bottle of red in hand and a warm smile on her face. They stepped onto the porch and reached for the doorbell. The sound echoed in the house, dispersing after several seconds, a sign of the remarkable size of Harvey and Donna's new home.

The outside already gave a pretty impressive preview, complete with a large front and back yard. Mike already knew it would be entrusted to some fancy gardener, but he still hoped to be invited over for occasional barbecues on Sundays.

He had never believed that the self-absorbed and emotionally detached best closer in New York City would be happy to move to Westchester, embracing life with the white picket fence and a Golden Retriever. He guessed Donna just closed _him._

Mike and Rachel heard footsteps coming from the other side of the door, which swung open within a few seconds, revealing a short-of-breath Harvey and a flustered Donna. The redhead, in a not so subtle move, put the strap of her navy blue dress back on the top of her shoulder, then smoothed down her wild locks.

"Hey guys," Harvey greeted them, a little chocked, threading a hand through his own hair, currently sticking in every direction.

The guests shared a perplexed look, before turning their attention back to the messy appearance of their hosts. Rachel scrutinized them, hazarding a guess. "Did we show up earlier?"

"No!" Donna tugged Harvey aside to let their friends in, her foggy mind starting to remember the basic principles of hospitality. "Perfect timing. Come on in!" She waved her hand and motioned them inside jovially. A little too jovially.

The house was stunning. Extremely Donna — raffinate, elegant, and traditional, yet with that something peculiar that rendered it unique. You could spot a little Harvey in those rare hardwood pieces of furniture, but they still suited the surroundings with the deep contrast between pastel colors and darker shades.

The younger couple was so hypnotized by the polychrome stained glass windows that they almost didn't notice the awkwardness between Harvey and Donna. After all, the pool table seemed much more intriguing than Donna fumbling with their coats and not knowing where to hang them.

The palpable tension was dampened by the separation of the women in the kitchen, and the men in the living room. Donna finally let Rachel help, accepting the expert's advice about how to roast the turkey, while Harvey forced Mike to help him hang some artworks on the empty walls.

"So…why were you so flustered when we first arrived?" Rachel asked, casually but probing.

Donna shrugged, chopping the vegetables, but couldn't keep a straight face. Her mouth curved inadvertently upwards, splitting her face in a shit-eating grin.

"Oh my god," Rachel turned halfway, tilting her head and arching a brow. Her statement was enforced by a hand on her hip, "you guys were totally doing it."

Donna couldn't help a smirk from blooming on her lips at the thought of their earlier activities. How Harvey had coaxed her into having a quickie before the guests arrived, convincing her they had time. How he had used the tip of his tongue and softly pressed it under her ear, igniting parts of her that better be sated before they received people. How he had just started moving on the upper zone on the couch before the doorbell rang.

She simply offered Rachel a wink.

* * *

In the span of half an hour, Harvey, Mike and Rachel found themselves nursing a glass of wine, talking and laughing. Donna kept walking back and forth around the house, taking care of last-minute things. She was finally seated down, sharing a story about her father's gift for the new house and how she and Harvey had to hide the hideous miniature of a frog in the basement, when the doorbell rang once again.

Harvey insisted on getting the door, excusing himself, secretly hoping it would be Jessica and Jeff. But what he found was a rather pensive Louis, holding a casserole of mashed potatoes and looking into the void.

Harvey recalled his attention by saying his name, then resorting to the help of a snap of his fingers when his friend didn't respond.

Louis broke his trance by shaking his head, blinking a few times, and throwing a flat smile in Harvey's direction. He was far from his usual cheerful self, and even if his presence was definitely less exuberant this way, Harvey had a hard time seeing him like this.

"Louis, you ok?" he asked reluctantly, not entirely sure he wanted to open that can of worms. He was afraid the man might burst into tears in the middle of the dinner and would want to have an open conversation about his feelings.

Harvey had accepted they were friends a long time ago, but not _that _kind of friends.

Louis simply sniffled, blatantly holding back the tears. "Yeah, it's just—" he grimaced, closing his eyes and inhaling sharply, lips meeting in a thin line. His face resembled the expression of a four year old deprived of his lollipop. "I just had this doubt— and… is anyone allergic to potatoes?"

Harvey eyed him dumbfounded. He opened his mouth to say something but found it impossible to give him a rational response. "I'm sorry. Wh— What?"

"I brought mashed potatoes, cooked with love and my deceased grandma's' recipe, who by the way is probably turning in her grave since I didn't put tomatoes in it. But on," Louis began to sob. "on my way here, I wondered if anyone was allergic to potatoes, and— God I didn't even bring a gift for the new house, just potential poison!"

Harvey stared at him with a disgusted look on his face that he didn't even try to hide. "No, Louis. No one is allergic to potatoes. You can relax now."

He dared to take his coat and lead him inside, taking the casserole in his hands in case Louis let it fall on the ground. Something was definitely going on, and it had nothing to do with potatoes, but lord knew if Harvey had any intention of being a part of it. It was supposed to be a gathering to say what they were thankful for and Louis' drama was certainly something they weren't.

Ignoring his friend's behavior though, became increasingly difficult. Not because he was weeping all the time or because he was lashing out at Donna for choosing taupe over beige to paint the walls, but because his phone kept buzzing. Like _constantly_. And even if that kept him relatively quiet, every time he checked his text messages his ears reddened and he let out random whimpers, often kicking somebody under the table. Whether the sender was threatening to kill him or informing him he had won the lottery, Harvey just wanted to take the device and throw it in his brand new toilet.

* * *

Jessica made her appearance shortly after Louis, sporting that typical glow that only happiness could bring. If Harvey had found it difficult to accept, but most of all to understand, her need to move, he could see with his own eyes now that it was exactly what she needed. The benefits of Chicago's air was definitely showing, and it also helped everyone to make peace with the fact that their former managing partner still loved them, but was happy elsewhere.

Jessica's presence lightened up the room, as she mercilessly teased Mike about finally getting into the Bar a few weeks prior.

"Okay, I get it." Mike raised his hands in surrender, but still clutching to his third refill of Red. "We're all lawyers now, but that doesn't mean we have to talk about law all the time."

"Says the guy who just got his license." Jessica smirked behind the hem of her glass.

"Being burned leaves quite a sting, huh?" Jeff chimed in.

Harvey laughed at the jab, feeling content and grateful to have them all gathered together, and not to fight for the name on the wall or some idiotic power struggle, but to celebrate. Maybe this whole Thanksgiving thing wasn't so bad after all.

Still, his hand felt empty without Donna's fingers laced between his, and he felt the unsuppressable need to see her. How they went thirteen fucking years without so much as a single touch is not comprehensible for his mind now. And yet, that was his reality not that long ago. He really had no idea what he was missing.

"If you'll excuse me, I'm going to look for Donna," he said, getting up and walking in the direction of the kitchen.

"Three minutes without his wife and he's already needy," Mike whispered behind his back, still loud enough for Harvey to hear.

"Will you cut it? She's not my wife, yet."

"Well, she should b— Wait a second." Mike's eyes were sparkling when he turned around and circled the couch they were sitting on. "What does 'yet' mean?"

"Yes, Harvey. What does it mean?" Jessica parrotted wide-eyed, but with the beginning of a smile growing on her lips.

Harvey rolled his eyes, turning his back to them once again. "I'm going to look for Donna."

Mike tried to coax an explanation out of him, but it was too late as he was already out of sight.

* * *

"Damn it," Donna cried out, rummaging through the cooking items of the first and second drawer of the kitchen counter. Frankly, Harvey's impressed to not having found her inhaling an entire bottle of wine.

"What did that drawer ever do to you?"

"I'm running out of patience here."

"Looks like you ran out of it an hour ago."

"I can't find those things… what are they called?" She waved her hand in the air, trying to come up with the name. She snapped her fingers loudly, then pointed her index finger at Harvey, "You know… the things you use to grab the hot pans so you don't get burned."

Harvey took three steps in her direction, taking her roaming hands out of the drawers and closing them in one swift motion. Donna turned to fully look at him, tilting her head in annoyance, before he flashed her a smirk of his. The one that signaled the beginning of trouble and that made her knees go weak. She suddenly felt all hot and bothered, as he boxed her between his body and the counter, reaching for something behind her. She closed her eyes in anticipation, but when nothing happened and she opened them again, he was dangling the potholders in front of her face.

She groaned and swept them off his hands.

"I hate you. I hate you, I hate the turkey, I hate this holiday."

Harvey went to open his mouth but she cut him off. "And don't you dare to say we can order pizza. I've got this. It's just… I'm exhausted, and I feel like I've either burned this bird or made it too dry."

_The two best cooking stages, _Harvey thought, but knew better than to voice it.

"I stink because I'm sweating from anxiety, my back hurts and I cannot stand this smell of game a second longer."

"Smell of game?"

"Yeah, I think I'm about to throw up," she brought a hand to her mouth.

"Okay," Harvey rushed to her side, gently coaxing her to the door. "I think you've done enough. Let me take the smelly game out of the oven and serve it. You wash your hands and go mingle, deal?"

Donna tried to protest, but Harvey pushed her outside before she could mutter a word.

Alone with the vital task of taking care of the last stages of the turkey, he took advantage of the moment to enjoy some peace and quiet. He busied himself stirring the cranberry sauce, but it wasn't even a minute that he heard Donna calling him from other room. He poured the sweet moisture into a nice bowl, picked it up, and took it in the dining room.

When he appeared from the kitchen, Donna walked to meet him halfway. "Harvey." She tapped his forearm, reclaiming his attention.

"Mh?" he murmured absentmindedly, patting his hands on his khakis and not tearing his eyes from the plate he had just positioned on the table.

"Harvey," she called him once again, this time more urgent.

"What?" He turned to her this time, his tone close to sounding bothered, as his eyes followed her hand to find the spot she was pointing at on the couch. His vision landed on something, an item with lacy fabric, scattered carelessly on the left armrest.

His frown got replaced by his eyebrows shooting to the top of his head once Donna murmured those three little words: "That's my bra."

As soon as the sentence traveled to his ears and his brain had processed it, he recognized it immediately. The thin deep-blue garment that he knew so well. (Because he had been the one to knead the flesh under it after he removed it earlier.)

"What are you doing standing here like a fool? Go get it!"

"Me?" Harvey whispered. "Why me?"

"You take it off, you take it away." She shrugged, but her tone was stern and of command.

Harvey knew better than to fight an over-stressed Donna, but the situation wasn't certainly textbook. They had to spare themselves from what could turn into one of the most embarrassing moments of their lives, but it was easier said than done. They had to move subtly in a room full of people, who were touching everything and were everywhere. It was basically their deathbed.

Harvey growled, but before he could try and contract, Jessica moved from her spot on the chair to get comfortable on the couch. Donna witnessed the scene unfolding in front of her with terror and pushed Harvey forward, urging him to make a move.

The man stumbled across to the tall brunette, acting on impulse and grabbing her arm to stall her. He roughly spun her around, making sure she was facing him and having her back to the offending piece of lingerie.

When Jessica threw him a rather puzzled look, Harvey found himself unable to access any of his bluffing abilities. "Wait— Jessica… I," he awkwardly cleared his throat. "Come sit at the table, we're almost ready." He offered an unnaturally broad smile.

The woman knit her eyebrows together, disoriented by Harvey's weird behavior. "If you could just..." Her eyes traveled with intention to his hands, still clutching her forearms and securing her in that position.

Harvey dropped them, along with his gaze, and then scratched the back of his skull. He moved to the side and allowed her to step past him. He used the moment to quickly grab the piece of clothing and put it behind his back. The sudden move though, caught Jessica's peripheral vision.

"What was that?" She turned around.

"Nothing," Harvey responded too quickly and defensively at her inquiry.

"It was not nothing." Jessica raked her eyes up and down Harvey's body, which had assumed a suspicious and uncomfortable position. "What are you hiding there?" She raised her voice, catching the other visitor's attention.

"Jessica, come on." Harvey chuckled, although the sound that came out of his mouth was clearly forced. He tried to backtrack, but she was agile enough to steal the object so secretly clutched behind his back, offering it for everyone to see.

Donna dropped her head into her hands, hiding her vermillion color from the shameful revelation. She might have also cursed Harvey's ineptitude.

Mike took a more than generous sip of his wine, maybe hoping to drown in it and forget the proof that his _mom and dad _were sexually active. Sure, he had been their number one fan, rooting for them since the first day, but he didn't want to delve into _that. _Rachel, on the contrary, had to stifle a snort, entertained by the whole exchange.

"A bra? Very classy, Harvey. My compliments," Jessica teased him goodnaturedly, too amused to be embarrassed by the surreal situation.

Louis' mouth slammed open, his jaw hitting the floor. "I think I need a day," he announced, sinking into one of the chairs around the dinner table.

"You? Not us, who had to endure you freaking out every time your cell phone rang?" Harvey covered his embarrassment by lashing out at him.

Louis freaked out, as usual. Nothing different than all the other times someone's ever accused him of something. He scrunched his nose, puffing the air out of his nostrils, and fleeing the line of interrogation with an annoyed scoff.

His phone rang once again, though, exposing him, and this time Harvey didn't hesitate before yanking it out of his grasp and reading the text out loud. "I can't wait to get into your home tonight and steal your jewels, so the only choice you'll have will be to use your gun and fill me with your load."

Louis' face became the same color as Rachel's burgundy dress, as he immediately stood up, reaching for his phone. But Harvey used the advantage of his height to keep it above his head and continue to read with a perplexed look on his face. "I want you to rock my world tonight. Bend me over your desk and fuc— Woah!" Harvey's eyes went wide as the sentence went on.

Everyone's faces morphed in disgust at the image just put into their heads.

"You're with Sheila again?" Harvey asked, checking the outrageous messages' sender.

"We're not together. She's just using me for sex."

Rachel spat her wine back into her glass.

"We slept together a couple of nights ago, and now she's harassing me with these provocative texts to coax me into being used as a toyboy once again," Louis explained, beginning to sob uncontrollably. And _there it is — _the tantrum Harvey didn't want any part of.

He opened his arms, seeking comfort from Harvey, who pushed him away. "So you're telling me that us," he waved his finger between him and Donna, "retrieving a piece of clothing in _our own house _is inappropriate, but you sexting with your lover at a friend's dinner isn't?"

Louis raised his finger as to stall the moment, growing serious all of the sudden. "Smoke," he said.

"Don't change the subject," Harvey barked.

"No," Louis shook his head, pointing in the direction of the kitchen's door, "there's smoke coming from there."

The hosts exchanged looks as they rushed to the other room to see the extent of the damage. But as soon as the door swung open, their line of vision was cut off by a deep fog, making it impossible to see anything. Nostrils were met with intoxicating smoke, urging Harvey to evacuate the house at the first cough.

"Come on, you guys," he shouted for everyone to hear, making them backtrack. "Take your coats and bags and let's head out!"

"Happy freakin' Thanksgiving," Mike muttered under his breath.

* * *

The prompt assistance of the nearest fire station was the blessing everyone had prayed for on Thanksgiving. The whole thing was supposed to be an occasion to catch up with old friends, spend a cozy evening together, and make up for lost time. A year without major life-changing tragedies was worth celebrating. But fate had other plans, and as the night reached the small hours, they all found themselves freezing like popsicles on the curb.

Donna couldn't believe this fiasco. She just wanted to throw a nice housewarming party, proving herself she was able to do this — able to be a decent housewife, even for a night, able to cook for her family… Now she felt like she couldn't compete.

She nervously rubbed her hands on her dress, bringing one to her temple and rubbing away the beginning of a migraine.

Witnessing her distress, Harvey looped an arm around her shoulder, rubbing her up and down, until she felt a little warmer. "Don't worry about tonight," he said smiling at her warmly. "The couple who burns a house together sticks together."

The quip elicited a laugh from Donna, making Harvey lighter in return.

"I'm going to check on the firefighters, alright?" she offered with a tight-lipped smile, giving him a peck on the lips and watching him walk away.

Mike took advantage of the moment to approach her, apologizing for the turn of events, and attempting at a joke to lighten up her mood. Donna appreciated the gesture.

"I was almost forgetting," Mike said, reaching for the white purse at his feet, returning it to its owner. Donna reached for it clumsily, causing it to drop to the pavement, the contents of the handbag scattering on the sidewalk.

"Shit," Mike crouched down and helped the redhead to retrieve the objects. He casually grabbed a plastic stick, not really minding its nature until Donna yanked it out of his hands possessively. But Mike's eidetic memory worked better than her aggressive move. "Donna…" he dared to speak up, the situation far too familiar. "Is that a pregnancy test?" he whispered.

Donna stood up, ice in her eyes as she addressed him menacingly, "You didn't see anything," she said sternly, leaving no room for argument. It was as she was really trying to convince him, manipulate his brain, through her strict words. "You don't get to bring it up _ever. _Forget everything, it isn't any of your business."

Mike watched as she kept a vigilant eye on him and walked away.

_Shit_

* * *

**This is all kinda familiar, isn't it? Just because I can't help but throw Darvey in these angsty scenarios! I can't wait to hear what you think of it! **


	17. Chapter 17

**Hi guys, just wanted to let you know that I'm super glad you're liking it so far. I wanted to reply to your kind reviews but this network is just going crazy right now.**

**It seems like yesterday that I was heartbroken writing Donna's miscarriage, and I'm so glad for those for stuck with this story and are now able to enjoy this new journey. Thank you especially to Stef, who's been here all along.  
**

**This isn't the _other time, _but _last __time, _just as angsty! Don't worry though, hang in there until the end of the chapter! I have to test if I'm lactose intolerant tomorrow and cannot eat or drink anything, so make me happy and distract me dropping some reviews if you can :)) **

**G-**

**Chapter 17: The last time**

"Potatoes?"

"Yes."

"What about potatoes? Didn't he like potatoes?"

"Oh, he liked potatoes alright."

"So, he was crying over potatoes?"

"Yes. Well, apparently he was crying over Sheila, he wasn't crying over potatoes."

"Please stop saying potatoes," Rachel interrupted Harvey and Mike's conversation, chiming in between the fast back and forth of quips.

After last night's fiasco, the younger couple had generously offered their friends to stay over at their apartment. The firefighters had quelled the flames, but the house was still too dangerous to stay in for the prospective of smoke inhalation. Harvey had promptly accepted the generous proposal, much to Donna's dislike, who would have preferred to spend the entire night looking for a last-minute hotel rather than having to face Mike's inquisitorial gaze.

All she wanted to do was stay away from him, and living under the same roof, even if just for the night, rendered that extremely difficult. Donna had planned to avoid him for as long as possible, staying in bed all morning if necessary, but that didn't turn out to be a problem, giving that her exhaustion got the better of her and she slept well past her usual hour.

Mike, Rachel and Harvey had gathered in the kitchen, nursing coffees and indulging on french toasts, laughing over last night's hilarious events, and waiting for Donna to wake from her slumber and to emerge from the guest bedroom.

"Hey." Harvey's face brightened with a smile when he saw his favorite redhead padding into the kitchen in the late hours of the morning, eyes still heavy with sleep and the knuckles of her right hand persistently trying to rub it away. She looked like a kid after her naptime, reddened cheeks and all, and Harvey found it adorable. More than he would like to admit. Drowsy Donna was also the most vulnerable Donna — not having already slipped into her superwoman shoes, she was usually more inclined to cuddle without using her sharp tongue or witticism. "You're up."

"I am," she said hoarsely, her vocal cords not being used for the entire night and still trying to adjust to the new task of talking. "And I wasn't supposed to sleep so much. You should have woken me."

She dragged herself to the kitchen island, where her three roommates were seated. She reached Harvey's side, letting him wrap an arm around her midsection and delicately nestling his nose into her neck. Normally, he wouldn't even consider touching her so intimately, and even if the gesture was the furthest from sexual, they usually didn't share physical contact in public. But there was something so relaxed and cozy on this lazy Friday morning, that he guessed Mike and Rachel wouldn't mind. And they didn't.

"Nonsense." Harvey took one of the several locks that were out of place and secured it behind her ear. If there was one thing he had learned since spending the nights together was that Donna Paulsen did not wake up with perfectly styled hair like she led people to believe. "You've broken your back for that dinner party. Least we could do was letting you recharge. You've been so tired lately."

Donna desperately tried to change the subject, feeling Mike's probatory and knowing gaze burning her skin — it was clear to both of them that the party was not the reason she had been tired lately. "Thank you guys for letting us stay here."

"Anytime," Rachel said with a warm smile, reaching for her cup of coffee and bringing it to her lips. She quirked an eyebrow, "Breakfast with Harvey is kinda fun."

"Don't tell me." Donna's lips curved upwards, throwing the man wrapped around her a side-glance. But the smirk quickly disappeared when she saw Mike's judgmental eyes fixed upon her.

"Would you like to have some?" Rachel motioned to a plate of french toast.

"No, thanks." Donna dismissed with a wave of her hand, her stomach turning at the thought of food. "Maybe later."

She heard Mike covering an annoyed scoff with a cough, and she felt the irrepressible desire to shut his critical mouth. Rachel caught up with the tension, and decided to dissolve it. "Alright, we only have one shower. Who's going first?"

"If you don't mind, I have to take care of something in," Harvey briefly checked his watch, "forty-five minutes, so hopping in now would save me some time."

He waited for everyone's nod of permission to proceed.

"Sure. Come with me, I'll show you," Rachel said, motioning him to follow her with a friendly wave.

Once Mike and Donna were left alone, none of them dared to speak up. The room quickly filled with awkwardness and tension to the point it threatened to burst. Donna felt a wave of heat flushing her pale cheeks and cursed Mike's ability to make her feel guilty without even talking to her. But when he finally raised his gaze and waited for her to turn around and face him, that's when she gave up.

"Don't look at me like that," she complained.

Mike blew out a breath, visibly irritated, and pushed himself off his seat.

"Mike, you can't tell him anything," Donna panicked and called after him.

Mike abruptly halted and spun around, taking two confident steps forward and closing the distance. He moved closer and whispered, "Do you remember what happened last time?"

"Don't," Donna stopped him before he could go any further, leaving no room for argument. She raised a menacing finger. "You don't get to talk about last time. You don't get to talk about last time _ever."_

"I do. When you're pregnant with my best friend's baby and you don't—"

"I'm not pregnant." Her gaze fell to the floor. Just saying the actual words made her stomach flip and her ears ring. "Well, I don't know it yet. I haven't taken the test."

Mike suddenly looked at the situation from a different perspective. Yes, he was kind of mad at Donna for involuntarily putting him in the position of lying, even if by omission, again, but it didn't feel right to hold her responsible. She wasn't to blame for keeping something from Harvey, but just… for being scared. Scared that things would turn out like last time. It was written all over her face, and Mike felt stupid for not having realized it sooner.

"Donna, we've had this discussion before. Last time you were worried about reopening old wounds, but now… now it's something good." He tilted his head and gave Donna a soft smile, then reached for the hand that was resting on the kitchen counter and squeezed it. "This baby is something good."

"There might not be a baby," she whispered.

"And that would make you sad?" he pushed, softly and reassuringly. She had to know she could talk to him.

"I— honestly… I don't know. I don't know what I want, and I'm just so— overwhelmed."

"Why are you overwhelmed?" Rachel barged into the room, and Mike and Donna dropped the conversation and the comforting hand like a hot potato.

"Nothing." She schooled her features in no time, ever the actress. "The new kitchen didn't last a month… and now we have to start all over again. Last time was a nightmare." She switched to a casual conversation with Rachel with disconcerting ease.

"Well, it so happens that it's Black Friday, we can go shopping," Rachel suggested casually, popping a blueberry into her mouth.

"Yes, of course. Go change first, I'll eat something in the meantime," Donna conceded with a soft expression, silently begging for Rachel to go away as soon as possible. A few more minutes and she wouldn't be able to keep up a smiley face anymore.

The brunette made her way out of the room.

Once she was out of earshot, Donna leaned closer to Mike, "You called him your best friend." Once she had caught up with Mike's puzzled expression, she added, "Before, you called Harvey your best friend."

"Yes, let's not tell him that."

* * *

Donna hadn't been interested in Black Friday for a long time now, but when she was younger, she was a big fan. She had made such a big deal about it. It was the day the holiday season officially began for her, and she could start looking for Christmas presents without worrying too much about money. What the heck, she could also buy something for herself. But as she got older and more financially stable, she lost interest in it — she could always use Harvey's corporate card when she felt like treating herself, and she usually didn't have to wait for sales to buy a dress she liked. Christmas shopping didn't hold the same meaning anymore either, given that she rarely went to Hartford, with her sister bringing a new husband every two years, her parents splitting up, and her other nosy relatives.

The last few years, though, Donna and Rachel decided to pamper themselves. They reserved a day to just stroll around shopping streets, bags heavy with expensive purchases, and inhale entire bottles of merlot.

Today was different.

They didn't discuss if they preferred the Prada with a slit or the Roland Mouret without, but if the blue ceramic or the dove grey was better suited for the parquet flooring. Donna wouldn't even be able to seek relief at the bottom of a bottle of wine. Of course, Heather had told her that a sip of alcohol here and there couldn't affect the fetus. But with this baby, Donna didn't want to risk any possible complication.

_If there was a baby,_ she had to remind herself.

And yet, she was so sure. She felt… _different_. Different in a way she hadn't felt last year, when she couldn't properly access the idea of being a single mother.

And maybe it was because now she had someone — and not just someone, but _Harvey — _to come home to, that she was almost hyper aware of the fact that she might be carrying his child. Maybe it was that she knew he wanted a baby — assuming that he hadn't lied to her last time just to make her feel good — that she was accepting it quicker than she wanted to.

But accepting that she might be pregnant and feeling good about it were two completely different things. And she wanted to make peace with her own feelings before letting Harvey into this whirlwind of emotions she was experiencing. So she had planned to take the test, find out the result, and act consequently. If it came up negative, there would be nothing to talk about. If it came up positive… well, at least she could have a little time to process it before exposing the news to him.

But she couldn't bring herself to do it.

Until some nice lady had approached her at the mugs shelf, asking her whether a printed mug with _Best Dad in the World _printed on it, was too cheesy to tell her husband she was expecting. Donna didn't believe in fate, but that was certainly... a lucky find.

She found herself doing something she rarely did: entertaining a conversation with strangers. In a few minutes, they were talking like old high school friends, and Donna suddenly knew more about the life of this chatty lady than about most of her friends. The woman was about seven weeks pregnant with her fourth kid and really hoped that this time it would be the boy she had long wished for. She even shared some of her deepest fears with Donna — she wasn't ready to manage so many children, especially since she and her husband hadn't planned it. The redhead listened in silence and then felt like giving her a piece of advice — to take what life gave her with open arms and not try to fight it.

And then, it was all so clear. Where was her integrity when she couldn't even follow her own advice?

* * *

Later that night, she joined Harvey in the living room, heart slamming against her ribcage and then up to her throat. Maybe this wasn't a good idea after all. And yet, it felt like the right thing to do.

"Sorry I couldn't come with you this morning, but I had this crazy," he dug his fork into the Pad Thai and took a generous bite, "crazy meeting with Anthony. I mean, who the fuck wants to meet the morning after Thanksgiving," he whined, occasionally spitting some food.

Donna laughed. Mostly because of her nerves.

Harvey kept spluttering on, asking if she had actually brought something, but she didn't pay too much attention to it, too busy trying to find a way to broach the offending subject. Her focus, though, quickly shifted to his body. How the V-neck of his shirt exposed his taut pecs, and how his grey sweats hang low on his hips, awakening the familiar tingling between her legs. Maybe she could just— _no_. She couldn't distract them both with sex and escape their problems. She was going on to tell him and she was going to tell him right now.

Donna sat on the coffee table in front of the couch, where Harvey was enjoying their takeaway dinner, giving that their kitchen was a good forty-percent burned.

"Yes." She cleared her throat. "I actually bought something this morning." Then she placed the object she had been hiding behind her back between herself and Harvey's feet propped on the table. Her manicured hand slowly turned around the white ceramic mug, showing Harvey the incision. _Best Dad in the World, _a yellow post-it with a _likely _scribbled in blue attached to it.

Harvey's breath lodged in his throat, as he choked on his food. He hit his chest repeatedly, trying to swallow his previous bite, but also the news.

Donna reached for his back, patting it a few times until he stopped coughing. The same second, he snapped his head to his right, wide and bewildered eyes fishing for an answer in her frightened ones.

"I noticed my period was a week late, and I immediately started to panic. I didn't know if I was ready to find out whether I was pregnant or not. After last time… it just hurt too much. I was planning on taking a test first, to go to you with some kind of certainty, but today I met this woman. She wanted to buy this for her husband" Donna motioned to the mug sitting between them. "We found ourselves talking and she told me she was worried about her unplanned pregnancy. I told her to embrace change, and then I realized I wasn't doing it at all."

Harvey listened in religious silence as Donna poured all her feelings out in the open. He guessed his jaw was forever dislocated, having spent the entire duration of her speech with his mouth open. And yet, he didn't mind. Right now, he understood she had to tell her part of the story, and he could use that spare time to process the news himself.

Going through what they had experienced the previous year had probably been the most challenging thing in his life. Scratch that, _definitely_ the hardest. He had been somehow spared the affliction of knowing about Donna's pregnancy since the beginning. But then, with the miscarriage, he had to deal with the grief. Grief for the son that was already deceased the minute he had come to know about his existence in the first place. Now, the thought of going through the _whole process _from the _beginning_… it was scary as hell.

"I don't want things to go like last time. I don't want to pee on that damned stick and wait those damn five minutes alone. I should do it with you, I _want _to do it with you." Donna smiled through the tears. "Because I love you."

Harvey's expression was unreadable until he broke into a watery smile. "Then what are we waiting for?" He asked her with a small chuckle that had nothing to do with irony, but everything to do with thrill.

In a matter of minutes, Donna had guzzled an embarrassingly large quantity of water in almost one go, imposing her need to know over the natural course of events. She had never had such a difficult time to pee — Harvey glued to the bathroom's door and asking every good five seconds if she was already done didn't help either.

After the unceremonious and definitely embarrassing process, Donna and Harvey sat on the edge of the bed. The timer signaled another three minutes before they could check the offending plastic stick that currently laid in the other room. Being near it would mean checking every second, and that was just not an option.

"Is it wrong to say that I'm excited about this?" Harvey broke the silence, needing to distract them both and clear his conscience at the same time.

Donna looked at the bathroom door, dividing them from the big dangerous monster that would soon change their future, in one way or another. "What do you mean?" she murmured quietly.

"I don't want to get our hopes up, and yet I can't help but be excited about this. And after last time… I don't want you to feel like I have forgotten about what happened, because I haven't. I probably never will. But having this chance… I don't know. It feels right." Harvey raised his head, checking if he had gone too far. "Does it make any sense?"

"Oh, Harvey." She reached to cup his cheek. "It makes all the sense in the world. I feel the exact same way. I think about the baby we lost every single day, and now thinking I could be pregnant again… I know I'm not ready to let completely go."

"And you don't have to. We have enough love to keep them both in our hearts. You know that we're not trying to replace him. We have gone through so much… I think we deserve to happy about this, don't we?"

"We _are_ happy about this," she assured him. "But what if there's nothing to be happy about?"

"Then we'll know how we feel about having another kid. It's good we had this conversation anyway. And maybe… just _maybe_, if you're not pregnant we can start trying."

Before Donna could reply, the alarm went off, indicating that it was time. With a couple of nervous glances, she and Harvey silently agreed on checking the test at the same time. At least, as much as their shaky hands allowed.

"What the—" Donna squinted her eyes, trying to get a proper read. If before she was almost afraid to touch it, now she was turning it repeatedly, hoping to find the optimal light and understand the results.

"It's… what the fuck. Why on earth would you choose such an incomprehensible one?" Harvey asked, half annoyed and half amused. The positive sign was supposed to come with a cross and the negative with a flat line. There was definitely a faint second line there, but had it always been there? Maybe it had to darken?

"I was scared, nervous and with a whole bottle of orange juice in my bladder. Forgive me if I brought the first test that I saw."

"And yet, you didn't take it." Harvey grew serious.

"No, I didn't," Donna said softly. "I think deep down I knew I would need you."

Harvey kissed her chastely, asking her if she had any other tests or if they had to make a quick trip to the pharmacy. Donna quirked an eyebrow and pulled a drawer open, showing a collection of plastic sticks of at least four different companies. Harvey eagerly grabbed the easiest one, foolproof.

Another gallon of water later, they stared at the word plastered on the plastic blue stick, boldly announcing that she was _pregnant._

"Oh my god," Donna brought a hand to her mouth. Her head spun violently as she reached for Harvey's forearm to steady herself.

Harvey felt his whole body on fire, heat climbing to his collar and taking his breath away. "Donna, you're pregnant," he managed to choke out. Incredulously. She nodded erratically, unable to hold it in any longer, smiling as her bottom lip began to quiver.

They both pursed their lips, not wanting to overreact and trying to ride the wave of various emotions that hit them with grace. But really, _screw grace. _After all they had been through, they had every right to celebrate.

They both tore their eyes from the test at the same time, and Donna saw as Harvey's face changed, morphing into something she had never seen. She had never imagined what an expression of pure joy must look like, but she guessed his was pretty damn close.

She bounced with glee, throwing herself in Harvey's arms, as he hoisted her up. She was glad for the extra support — her legs had started to give up a minute ago. They held each other so tightly, almost if wanting to fuse together.

Harvey kissed her with everything he had, remembering himself to be gentle, but never shying away from being his usual passionate self. It wasn't a single long kiss, but several pecks, one for every year they had spent side by side. They eventually parted long enough for him to say her name — the name of _the mother of his child. _

"_Harvey," _she called him back, not entirely sure why. She just needed him to know she was feeling this big, raw and all-consuming feeling she had never experienced before. Not even last time. And she just wanted him to feel it with her.

"Donna, you're _pregnant_," he repeated, his words heavy with sentiment. He almost wanted to try those words out in the air — how they tasted on his tongue, how they sounded on his lips. Almost to make it real.

As he put her down, his eyes traveled to her stomach, as if wanting to spot the evidence of the news they had just found out about. He gingerly reached for her belly, still flat, but nonetheless full of life, and met her eyes to ask for permission. Donna took the lead and grabbed his palm, splaying his calloused fingers under the fabric of her sweater. Donna understood it — he didn't want some symbolic gesture, he just wanted to test if it was real. He needed something tangible. The heat seeped through the skin, almost if wanting to reach his baby.

They were having a _baby_. They were going to be _parents. _Of a _person. _A person they had _created from scratch together. _

Donna tore the yellow post-it from the white cup with a watery chuckle. "I guess we don't need this anymore." She was quick to send Mike a text, attached to a photo she had snapped of Harvey and his mug: _looks_ _like your best friend is going to be a father._

Donna smiled to herself.

_Last time_ was nothing like _this time._

* * *

**So yes, they are going to have a baby! I'm so relieved I can start writing this new chapter of their lives. They will never forget about their dead son, but I think they deserve a little happiness. Sorry if I focused more on Donna's point of view lately, but I feel like she deserves a little bit more of spotlight, giving that she's the one who carried both babies. xx**


	18. Chapter 18

**Hi guys, so sorry for missing last week's update, but I was traveling and did not have time to write at all.**

**I've decided to divide what I think will be the last three chapters and let each one deal with a trimester of Donna's pregnancy. Hope you like it.**

**Please, please, please do tell me what you think. I appreciate every little word.**

**As always, thanks to Stephanie for being my number one coach.**

**G-**

**Chapter 18: They must be waiting for you to move on**

_First trimester _

Since Harvey had found out about Donna's pregnancy, he had been nothing but attentive. A little too attentive, almost… what's the right word… _naggy_.

And Donna was already fed up.

She knew he cared, maybe a little too much, but she loved that about him. She had spent too many years trying to convince herself she didn't need him like that — to worry about her, to be the shoulder to cry on or to give her a hug when she felt vulnerable. But now his persistent concern was suffocating her.

Except when she's at work, and the most tiring task is to sit on a chair and type away, she's been doing nothing but laying around on the sofa all day. But even that turned out to be a problem.

"Can you please stop laying on your stomach? You're crushing my baby," Harvey said once, irony on the surface but complete seriousness underneath his jovial tone.

He was probably just as worried as her to lose this baby. After the apparently insurmountable mountain of sorrow they had to climb last year, he wasn't willing to come back to the slope. Quite frankly, he didn't think he had it in him to start all over again. One thing was sure — Donna didn't. After they had both enjoyed the view at the top, they couldn't possibly go back.

No one said that the second time was supposed to be easier, walking down that dangerous path again. With so much at stake, there was no room for fucking it up. Cut out all the caffeine, alcohol, cheese, and crazy gunmen on the loose. It should be simple, right? But with this kind of thing, nothing's guaranteed. The percentage of miscarriage in young women was about 20%, and adding Donna's stressful life and advanced age to the equation did not help at all.

So really, Harvey's concern was nothing if not predictable.

"Your baby? Last time I checked, it takes two to Tango." Donna put her phone face-down and propped herself on her elbows. She crossed her ankles and slid further into the mattress, almost to dare him to do something about it. She was no specialist, but she was sure laying in that position couldn't hurt the baby. If anything, it gave Harvey a pretty _panoramic view_ and the chance for her to charm him into other activities that didn't involve baby talking. Mostly _baby-making._

Donna peered over her shoulder, throwing Harvey a playful wink. He felt a surge of energy coursing through his whole body, buzzing with excitement and rousing him from his dozing state. A provocative thrust of her hips upward and his pants suddenly felt a little too tight. He wasted no time crawling in bed with her, making sure to turn her around before peppering her collarbone with kisses. He felt this involuntary sense of proudness about winning the argument, or so he thought. In all honesty, Donna just led him to believe that. The whole point was to get some attention, anyway.

Harvey smiled in their languid kisses, until Donna wrapped her legs around his waist, securing him there and pressing him right where she needed him, and his mouth opened to let out a groan. She kept seeking friction until he eventually parted from her.

"Donna," he said, catching his breath while she attacked his neck. "If you keep doing that," he momentarily paused, distracted by the way her swollen and wet lips traced his pulse point.

Donna hummed.

"If you keep doing that, I won't be able to hold back," Harvey managed to finish, at last.

Donna finally raised her head, looking him straight in the eyes. "And why that would be a bad thing?" She smirked, bumping her hip bones against his pubic bone as to prove a point.

"Because you know I don't like to start something we can't finish."

"Do you have somewhere to be?" She quirked an eyebrow.

"Don't push it. You know we can't have sex," he whispered, almost as if someone could hear them. He seemed… _disappointed? _Probably just sexually frustrated.

"And why the hell not?"

"Because of…" He trailed off, eyes widening and staring intently at her stomach. It was all too funny for Donna to hold back her laughter, questioning where the hell that came from. "We can't have sex.. because of the baby," Harvey explained further.

"You know the reason they're in there is because we actually did it, right?" She teased him for good measure.

"I'm serious, Donna. I don't want anything to hurt the baby."

"Harvey." Donna reached to caress his cheek, knowing when to start becoming serious. If she was completely honest though, his worried attitude made her grow soft. "Sex is not going to hurt the baby."

"How do you know that? I mean, they're so safe and content there, and then this… other… _thing _comes to ruin the peace— Don't make fun of me!"

Donna choked back a laugh, almost suffocating at the image he was just trying to portray. The last thing she would have ever expected was to have _this _kind of conversation with Harvey. Truth to be told, as amusing as that was, she knew she had to be kind enough to try and listen to him. Even if that felt like a ridiculous thing to discuss. "Ok… so you want to hold back for the next seven months?"

"Well, not _seven months,_" he replied a little too quickly, almost disgusted at the idea of waiting for such a long time. "But maybe until the second trimester,"

"When the baby's too big for anything else to fit in there? I don't think so," she quipped, a little snort escaping her.

"I'm not asking you to park a truck in there."

"Well, obviously…"

Harvey raised an eyebrow in warning.

"Ok, I'm joking," she reassured him, maneuvering herself on a sitting position and leaning against the headboard. She looked at him tenderly. "You don't have to be scared, it's perfectly safe for us to do it."

Harvey didn't seem too convinced by her statement, "Still, I would prefer to have the opinion of an expert."

How could Donna blame him? Even the minimum margin of error wasn't allowed. On that, at least, they both agreed. And it was the only important thing. "If speaking about our sex life with a stranger will make you feel better," she said ironically. And then, a light switched on. Maybe it didn't have to be a stranger, after all. "We could go to Heather maybe," she suggested.

"Heather?"

"My friend, from college, OB-GYN?" She explained, hoping to say something that could remind him of her friend. She thought she had mentioned her at least a couple of times, but she wouldn't bet on it. It was years ago anyway, and Harvey properly wasn't listening to her at the time. "She followed my last pregnancy, I think it makes sense," Her gaze fell to her intertwined hands on her lap.

He just smiled and reached for her hand, immediately sensing her uneasiness. "Yes, of course. Why not."

* * *

The waiting room of Heather Jones' medical practice was a familiar space to Donna, but it certainly was an unknown space to Harvey.

The clinic was located downtown, in a pretty little street adorned with cute shops and boutiques. It was up on the fifteenth floor of a private health center, a small yet polished place. The walls were filled with posters — women's reproductive systems and pregnant bellies plastered on every little inch — and glass coffee tables with information brochures arranged in circles.

Harvey wasn't familiar with that world. Sure, he certainly remembered some of Biology classes cardinal topics, but he would lie if he said that he knew perfectly what was going on inside Donna's body. And if he liked to know better in his everyday life, then he wanted to be _perfectly _informed about his child's development.

He was beyond excited to get to be a part of this, walking through every little scary step of this incredible process, like he didn't have the chance to last time. For Donna though, things were slightly different. She had already done it all: scheduling the appointments, getting checked out, and planning about the future. And even though she was extremely glad she had Harvey by her side this time, she couldn't help but think she had already been through that and it hadn't worked.

The idea of seeing the face of the baby inside her uterus and it not being the same, but another one… it just felt strange. She wanted anything but to fuse her two pregnancies together. This kid wasn't her first, and mistaking that would have been disrespectful for both of them. Disrespectful for the memory of the first and for the future of the second.

She would just have to get used to it.

Only time would tell if it worked.

So, as she sat down on the cream-colored chairs in front of the blonde doctor once again, she held Harvey's hand extra tight.

The three made mostly small talk for the first few minutes, getting to know each other and fill Heather in about Harvey's role in Donna's life. As the redhead had predicted, her friend had already seen it coming a mile away and didn't hesitate before teasing them mercilessly.

Conversation flew easily between them, and Harvey finally understood why Dr. Schneller took so much goddamn time to let him in for his monthly appointments. He probably lingered talking with old friends.

After a good seven minutes of gossiping like every good old friend does, Heather asked Donna why she had bought her handsome partner with her. Usually, a pap-test didn't require that much support.

Harvey was left dumbstruck.

Didn't Donna tell her she was pregnant again?

It probably wasn't easy for her to go to her friend and getting through all that sympathy again.

Donna squared her shoulders, sitting more upright on the edge of the leather cushion. She wiped her clammy palms against her jeans. "Actually." She took a big breath. "I'm— we're having a baby."

Donna turned to Harvey and reached for his forearm, squeezing slightly.

The doctor's face managed to remain almost imperturbable. Harvey had to give it to her, she was professional beyond every doubt. But he was still quick enough to catch the sparkle of surprise bolting in her eyes, telling him the news took her off-guard.

"Well, what can I say other than bring it in." Heater got up and rounded her chair. She opened her arms wide to welcome Donna.

"Harvey." She turned to him, not shying away from reserving the lawyer the same friendly hug. He reluctantly accepted it, finding it weird to share the physical contact he was so keen to deny to most, but Heather was a good person. And if she was expansive on top of it all, well, he could live with that. "Congratulations to you, too. You must be thrilled."

"I am." Harvey smiled.

An awkward minute of silence elapsed between the three.

"So," Heather clapped her hands together. "Why don't I prep this lady and then we can get a look of this gorgeous little thing." She reached for the pregnant woman's belly — her hand hovering over it but never actually touching it — and looped an arm around Donna's.

_Smooth. _

Harvey gave the go-ahead, understanding that the blonde was begging to have a minute alone with his redhead.

Heater dragged her in the adjacent room, beginning to talk the second the door closed behind them.

"So, do I have to be all 'what a blessing, and I won't bring it up how you were in this exact same position a year ago'," she started, letting Donna lay on the examination table. "Or do I have to be all 'I'll kick your ass until you tell me exactly how you feel about this'?" she finished, crouching Donna's sweater up and unbuttoning her jeans.

She halted her movements, looking at her friend straight in the eyes. "Because either of them is a valid choice, Donna. Okay? Don't ever doubt that."

Donna felt herself welling up. She sighed, "It's weird. I guess, it'll take some time to get used to but I'm definitely happy. And Harvey is too."

"Then that's all I need to hear."

* * *

The room was chilling cold. It was December, and the weather was as it was supposed to be, but a closed space wasn't usually meant to resemble the freakin' Arctic Circle. Harvey didn't know how it was possible for Donna's skin not to be covered in goosebumps, giving that her midsection was exposed and a seemingly cold and sticky gel was spread across it. He wondered if he could ask someone to turn the heater on. But his mind drastically changed when the doctor started to move the doppler across the soft yet taut mound that was Donna's stomach. Like a metal detector searching for treasures, the machine was trying to pass through her outstretched skin and show his unborn child on the screen.

Heat seeped into his bones as Harvey loosened his tie.

Donna somehow sympathized with him — it didn't feel real until she had tangible proof.

Harvey's eyes traveled to the monitor, which was displaying nothing more than a pixelated black and white screen. His whole body was buzzing with excitement at the thought of spotting his baby for the first time, every cell tingling in anticipation of his reaction to the appearing of the little being. But then it dawned on him that maybe he wouldn't be able to see it. After all, Heather had been examining Donna for several seconds and he hadn't recognized anything other than grey grains. Maybe he was the one to not recognize it. That would make him a terrible father already.

Before panic could take hold of him, though, Heather unknowingly came to his rescue, stretching her index finger toward the screen and pointing directly at it. "Mr. or Miss. was giving me quite a hard time, but I'm smarter than them. Found it!" She exclaimed jovially.

Donna's head snapped to the side, her gaze landing greedily to the barely-there dark dot. The last time she had taken an ultrasound, the baby had been much bigger and noticeable. This time it didn't really look like _anything_, more like… a black bean. Of some sort. But it was very much there.

Harvey felt all the tension leave his body as the pent-up emotion of the wait deflated and the vision of his son or daughter piqued his interest, an unlimited surge of love blooming in his chest. A kind of love he had never felt before, nor thought of experiencing. It was too great, too endless, and too out of his control. His mouth hung open as he stared at the moving yet almost imperceptible product of his and Donna's love, that, to be brutally honest, didn't resemble much of a baby. He didn't know what he was expecting to see, certainly not feet and hair.

A funny thought occurred to him. "It really looks like a peanut." Harvey smiled a big Cheshire Cat smile. His eyes were glistening, but he was too transfixed to notice, much less care.

"Actually," Heather chimed in. "Seems like you're eight weeks pregnant, your baby is the size of a raspberry!" she announced excitedly.

Harvey's mind started to travel on its own, doing some quick calculations. Yeah, it was _definitely _possible for Donna to be eight weeks. Eight weeks ago there had been a trip down memory line with whipped cream. And well… it would be extremely poignant if she had gotten pregnant on that occasion.

Harvey chuckled to himself, bringing Donna's knuckles to his lips. He pressed them there, stamping a promise — a promise of forever — and thought about how damn lucky he was. For real.

"Everything looks good, healthy and progressing as it should be," Heater informed the couple. She never tore her eyes from the screen, providing the right amount of small talk while taking some measurements at once. She moved the mouse around the image, showing them what should be the head, body, little legs, and arms. But all Harvey could think about now was a raspberry. Their little raspberry.

Donna was trying to make sense of the emotions the vision of the little raspberry was arising.

The second she saw it appearing on the screen, she had to bite down on her quivering bottom lip, as tears formed in the corner of her hazel eyes. Her response to that image had been so immediate that she had been completely overwhelmed by it.

And maybe it was everything she and Harvey had been through, but this time it hit her more than she thought it would. She thought she was prepared… she clearly wasn't. She had wanted this for so long, longer than she even realized, that now that she had it… she felt exaggeratingly happy.

It felt so liberating, after all this time, to actually s_ee_ that she had done it. She had been able to give them another chance. Said chance was growing inside of her now, with a pretty quick heart rate.

"Is it supposed to be this high?" Donna sniffed, pointing at the 140 bpm on the screen.

Heather smiled tenderly at her, choking back a laugh. "Yes, mama bear. It's exactly how it's supposed to be: strong."

The doctor turned on the sound of the machine, a few clicks here and there, and the room was soon filled with a rather loud noise. Rhythmic, yet constant. Foreign, yet familiar. Weird, yet melodic. A perfect harmony. A symphony of some sorts.

Harvey and Donna felt like they knew it. Not the baby they had lost, the life that wasn't lucky enough to bloom, but this one. They were living in the moment. The was no grief over the troubled past, only hope for the future. A future in which this was the first thing they knew as parents. Their baby's heartbeat.

"Amniotic sac and placenta are perfect. I'd say we snap a picture of this cutie and you can dress again. Once you're all set we can talk about what's coming next," Heather said to Donna, making fast work of the last few things to tackle before she was free to go. Last but not least, she confirmed to a self-righteous Donna and a flustered Harvey that it was perfectly safe for them to have sex.

As they went through the basic notions of prenatal care and what to expect the following months, Harvey and Donna understood that there was so much they didn't know.

They wanted to take things little by little, step by step, and they were. But sometimes, no matter how much they wanted it, they didn't feel completely prepared for that baby.

There were minutiae to go through, but also big things. Things she hadn't paid too much attention to the other time. Probably because she was too busy drowning in the sorrow of not having Harvey by her side. But he was there now, holding her hand, looking at her like she was creating a miracle, and maybe this baby was a miracle. And for that, planning the future didn't feel so scary anymore.

When Donna exited the building with lightness in her steps she realized that she wasn't alone anymore. She wasn't alone even last time. It was her and the baby, but now… now they were three.

* * *

Katrina crossed the threshold of the kitchen, stopping dead in her tracks at a rather loud sound of whirring. Louis barely managed to keep the lid on the blender, fresh off the market, in place, as the blades struggled to chop the pieces of a greenish vegetable.

"Louis," she called for his attention, but the whirring only became louder, as the machine shook vigorously.

Katrina stood there, unsure about what to do next. She awkwardly wet her lips and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Louis in a striped apron only meant one thing: his sacred break. And the fact that he was using the cheap apron silently implied that it was the time when he gave up prunies and traded them for smoothies with a heavy heart. That the fruit deprivation increased his bad mood wasn't a secret, but still, she had been back at the firm for just a few weeks and had to talk through some important things with him.

"I just need," she tried, but got cut off by Louis raising a finger, motioning to wait.

"I just..."

The whirring started to slow, as Louis' finger lowered at the same time, like he was the conductor of an orchestra. Katrina followed the movement with her eyes, waiting for her moment to speak. As Louis' index descended, so did the deafening sound, until it stopped.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Looks delicious." She smiled. "What is that?"

"It's a spinach and kale power smoothie. I'm in the middle of my quarterly cleanse. Don't want to talk about it. What do you want?" he said with alarming speed.

"My motion to dismiss with Judge McIntyre is on Wednesday. I've never been able to connect with him, but I know you are close."

"I understand him. I'm a stickler like him. Don't be late, don't be sloppy, don't be disrespectful and he'll love you, just like he loves me," he said, his words laced with a hint of proudness.

Katrina lowered her head, slightly embarrassed by the following question. Asking people for help had never been her forte. "Since you know him so well, would you do me the honor of signing on as first chair?" Oh, amazing grace.

Louis' face fell. "Katrina, you know nothing would make me happier, but—" His ears reddened. Just like they did when he got mad.

_Oh man, _Katrina thought.

"Alright." He made fast work of the knot and shoved his apron aside. Taking a seat at the round table, he crossed his legs and began rambling like a fifteen-year-old at her first pajama party. "So, apparently I'm back with Sheila, which is great and exciting. But, you know how she is…"

_Kinky?_

"Demanding. And she's asked me to help her raise some funds by organizing a charity gala. Something classy, strictly Harvard ex-students. Classy but not predictable, and what does that even mean? Normally I would have made something up and washed my hands of this, but I don't want to let her down this early. So I wish I could help you, but I'm busy," he ended the monologue with a dramatic scoff.

"Well, can't you ask someone to help you out. This way you'll have time for both?"

"Donna!" Louis addressed the redhead coming up from behind Katrina's back, entering on unsteady feet supported by Harvey.

"No."

Donna didn't even bother looking at him, as she waved her hand in dismissal, signaling that she wasn't in the mood for anything, and took a seat next to him. Still, she wasn't willing to talk. She let her head fall into her hands and groaned loudly.

Louis frowned. "You didn't even know what I was going to say!"

Donna threw him a dead glance.

"I'm sorry. She's just not feeling great," Harvey said apologetically. Having to justify other people's actions wasn't something he did. Usually, it was the other way around. One thing was for sure: he had never had to make amends _to Louis _on behalf _of Donna._ "I'm going to get you a glass of water, alright?"

Donna didn't nod her head, afraid it might feel like it spun violently again.

"What's going on?" Katrina asked.

"Just some nausea," Harvey responded to her, hoping to not trigger further questions.

The first trimester had been pretty much easy for Donna. Fatigue and heartburn were now familiar, but nothing she couldn't manage. Her organs were moving around to make space for a baby, so that was probably to be expected. She had yet to puke her guts out, so that by all accounts should be a good sign. Nausea, though, had never left her. Especially when Harvey ate hot dogs with onion in front of her.

"Do you know what would make you feel better? Stop reading all those little words on those piles of paperwork on your desk, and clear your mind."

"I'm so sorry, Donna," Katrina whispered in her ear, knowing well where Louis' was getting at with his previous words.

"Now that I think about it, in two weeks there's going to be this very classy, _yet not predictable _little reunion with Harvard's alumni to raise some funds, and you'd be perfect for the job," he said excitedly.

"What job?" Donna barked, visibly annoyed.

"Organizing it, of course!"

"I don't know, Louis." She took a large gulp of the water Harvey handed her. "I'm not even Harvard graduated."

"But Harvey is. You could be his date. And frankly, who gives a shit about it. You're perfect at these things, and I know how much you care about charity," he reasoned, a twinkle of excitement in his eyes.

At the mention of charity, Donna softened a little. What kind of example would she set for her child if she didn't care about helping others? "I don't know. I guess I could—" she wasn't even able to finish voicing her perplexities that Louis had misread it for a yes. He bolted out of the room, dragging Katrina with him before she could explain any further.

"Ouch." Harvey walked to her, settling behind her back and starting to work on the contracted muscles. "You were played nicely."

"Nah, I could really use a distraction. Plus, these kinds of things are always fun with open bar and free booze."

"Umh… Donna?" He waited for her to connect the dots.

"Shit," she cursed. "I can't even get drunk. And people will definitely notice if I don't. It's not like me."

_Nice, _Harvey thought. _We will raise a little alcoholic. _Drinking will definitely be one of the things Donna will miss most in those nine months. And then, a thought occurred to him.

"Louis said two weeks didn't he?"

Donna nodded.

"Do you know what happens in two weeks?" He turned her head so that he could meet her eyes. "You enter your second trimester."

"How do you know that?"

"How do you _not _know that?" He mocked disappointment, and Donna planted her elbow in his ribs. Harvey caught it and used the leverage to drag her up and wrap her in his arms. "Do you know what that means?"

Donna shook her head. She knew exactly what that meant, though.

"We can start telling people." Harvey smiled broadly.


	19. Chapter 19

**Hi guys, don't know how many of you still follow this story at this point, but I want to thank every one of you that has contributed to make me feel like it was worth finishing it. Of course, Stefanie is the one who has given me the most help with all the feedback and precious comments. I hope she knows how much she means to me.**

**We have arrived to the penultimate chapter of this turbulent and crazy story, hope you'll like it. **

**Drop a review if you can :)**

**G-**

**Chapter 19: Feel something**

_Second trimester_

Donna had always been a woman of the world.

People were the ones who made the world what it was: by inhabiting it, molding it, and setting the rules they'll have to follow themselves. And that's why knowing what made them tick was the base to understanding how society worked.

Since she was a teenager, she had been a part of social events, always keen to help out. She never attended them in hopes to be the prom queen, the girl who craved her five minutes of glory up on a stage with a pretty band and a bouquet of flowers. No, she did it because she liked what happened behind the scenes. She enjoyed working on the logistic, organizing and making it all perfect. Her great taste had only sharpened in the years, and she had quickly learned how to impress and make people swoon.

Her charms had worked perfectly at the firm: while she was pleased with the spotlight that enchanting new and old clients with mastery and ease brought her, Harvey and Jessica knew that they were in safe hands. They had a trusted person who was able to excel in what wasn't their field. When it came to court, dealing with people didn't constitute a problem, but interacting with them over a glass of Chardonnay wasn't their strong suit.

So yes, Donna had been the core of the Pearson, Specter, Litt's main events, but she hadn't organized one in what felt like forever. With Mike going to prison, the shooting, and Jessica's departure there hadn't been much to celebrate.

When Louis had asked her the favor of taking care of the upcoming gala for him, she hadn't been too enthusiastic for obvious reasons. Her mind was entirely occupied by the imminent arrival of a newborn, and adding this on top of the hundred things she had to deal with right now hadn't felt like the best idea.

But once she got caught up in organizing, she realized it wasn't so bad after all. Being in charge of something new was stimulating and challenging. She felt useful and in her element, perfectly in tune with the inspiring nature of the task.

She had later discovered that the charity at hand was also one she had supported for over three years, so that was a bonus.

No matter how exciting her duties revealed to be, though, the thought that nagged her head while she was touching up the last details of her makeup was far from which hour the catering would deliver the oysters.

"Emily?" Harvey asked, all but a whisper, afraid of yet another rejection.

Donna chuckled, almost amused that he would be so naive to propose that particular name to her. Like he didn't know she would block it straight away. "Veto!" She turned to the mirror of their bedroom vanity again, to signal that the conversation was over.

Harvey lifted a hand to his head to mess with his perfectly coiffed hair. He met her gaze in the reflection of the mirror and voiced his disappointment. "That's not possible. You just vetoed my last three!"

Donna suddenly put the lipstick in her hands down on the victorian furniture, spinning around and looking him dead in the eyes. Harvey's Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed upon her compelling gaze.

"Need I to remind you that when I went to Spain I asked _Emily_ Carlson for a phone top-up otherwise I would get cut off until I came back? Well, twenty years later and I'm still waiting." she cocked her head to the side and scrunched her nose sardonically.

"And twenty years later you don't hold a grudge," he teased her, rolling his eyes.

"Emily is a big fat no."

Without further ado, she turned back to the mirror to apply her lipstick. Her movements were sharp and confident, as to enforce her resolve. Red tinged her lips, like the color of the blood that would be shed in case Harvey thought of bringing that up again.

Harvey slumped on the edge of the bed, tired after over thirty minutes of discussing baby names. Weirdly enough, the thought of having to settle on a name for their child was a thought that never crossed his mind. And even if the conversation had been brought up casually, the outcome had been nothing but. He knew that both he and Donna weren't people to back down and compromise, but he could never imagine them to be so competitive over something so simple. And yet, thinking about it, choosing the name that their own child would carry forever, the name that would mean rather good or bad news, didn't seem so simple after all.

"Alright." Seemingly defeated, he patted his hands on his navy blue pants.

Donna loved him in navy blue. And maybe it was that, or the fact that her head was thumping, or the fact that she wanted them both not to have any regrets, that had her extending a peace offering. "Look," she stuck the tip of her tongue out to wet her lips, "let's just say we have four vetoes each."

"No way. Five," he countered.

"Four," Donna insisted.

"Six," Harvey raised the stakes.

Donna scoffed. "Alright, five."

"Didn't think you'd cave that easily, Paulsen." Harvey smirked.

"Don't speak too soon. I _need _those five vetoes. And they don't even begin to cover the names of all the women you've slept with."

* * *

Donna really outdid herself tonight, and the general approval was on everyone's lips. The gala had quickly become the talk of the town, and many Harvard alumni, now turned rich and bored old businessmen, happily hopped on the chance of reviewing some old friendships and what they would describe as 'the happiest years of their lives'. But, of course, the invite also extended to very young and promising attorneys, just as opulent as their older selves.

Donna had planned every little detail, from the ice for the cocktails to the breathtaking location, and a sophisticated eye could immediately spot the results of hard work. She had been breaking her back to make the evening suitable and comfortable for everyone, but most of all, to coax people into opening their wallets and make generous offers. And if there was one thing she did know, it was that generous offers were promoted by good entertainment and good alcohol. No one bored or sober would be prone to donate.

Donna had been spending the whole night wandering around the room, apparently aimless. But Harvey had been keeping a close eye on her (and when did he not), knowing that what she, even if seeming so chilled and relaxed, was really plotting something was far from aimless. He knew how her tactics worked — had seen her apply them to others and to himself — and he knew when she was hunting. He also knew when someone had been caught in her net and didn't even notice it. She seamlessly waltzed from one group to another, charming women with compliments over their dresses, and stroking men's egos with attention and light flirting. And that was when Harvey knew — she was trying to get them to open their checkbooks.

And even if that meant that every time she laughed at a man's joke, or brushed their upper arm, or batted her eyelashes some extra, it was completely innocent and solely aimed to her benefit, he couldn't help but feel a little irritated. He wouldn't call it jealousy. Except it totally was. Did the idea of craving Donna by his side, marked as _his, _made him a bit of a caveman? Probably. And yet he couldn't help but feel the irrepressible desire of yelling from a rooftop that she was the _mother of his child _and that he was the luckiest bastard in the whole world.

But Donna had insisted on wanting to keep it a secret for a little longer, despite being almost four months. She just enjoyed their little bubble so much, where everything was uncomplicated and perfect, and where time had stopped. No matter how excited and glad she was that she got to break the news to her dearest friends, she also knew that the moment it happened, everything would become more real, and maybe she wasn't completely ready for that. Kisses, hugs, and congratulations were a sign of love and care but could be a little naggy coming from dozens of people. Harvey already provided them in spades.

So Donna just focused on enjoying the night.

She had just promised the tall and handsome head of Miller & Garcia to refill his drink in order to have something refreshing to sip while he kept filling her in about his brilliant mind and how he got into law school much earlier than anyone else from his old class. Needless to say, she was utterly and completely bored. But the attractive stranger seemed looser after having had his fair share of booze and she was sure that with a little bit more pillow talk she

could make him scribble some more zeroes on his offer.

The thing was, Harvey wasn't so sure that the _pillow talk _didn't include an actual bed in Miller's mind.

Donna approached one of the counters at the corner of the room and hopped on a stool, giving a break to her swollen feet. She slightly leaned against the cool marble with her left elbow and slid the empty glass on the surface, motioning with a flex of her finger for a refill.

The young bartender seemed utterly perplexed by the gesture, probably not understanding how these things worked. With every chance, he was still living with his parents, who wanted to teach him a life lesson about hard work and money and had forced him to take this part-time job. His bright and curious eyes trailed from the woman sitting in front of him to the glass between them, unsure of what to do.

Donna scoffed, not knowing if she felt rather experienced or old.

"Another whiskey and soda," she explained.

"Ma'am that's the fifth already." His voice came out just above a whisper, worried he might upset the older woman and that he was overstepping. What he didn't know was that calling Donna _Ma'am_ was what really upset her. He wasn't paid enough for any of that shit, anyway.

"Who are you? My mother?" she bit.

The young boy was startled by the comment and immediately pulled out a bottle. His attitude screamed naive and inexperienced, and Donna suddenly felt bad for him.

"Your child is the devil's offspring." She heard the snarky comment behind her back. She turned around to see Harvey with a shit-eating grin on his face.

"How is it that every time it's something bad it becomes _my_ child instead of _our_ child?"

"Oh, so you do remember you're carrying _our child_. Could have fooled me with all that flirting with Scrooge McDuck."

Donna feigned a pitiful look. "Ouch. Are you hurt because he's richer than you?"

"He's also older."

"He's 37," Donna stated with conviction, making his certainties crumble.

_Fuck._

Harvey's face fell. "That's it. Let's get out of here."

"Harvey," Donna moaned, halting his movements and grabbing his forearm. "Come on, I'm having fun!"

"I can see that," he said, not too sarcastically. His gaze flicked between Donna and Miller, still waiting for her with hope in his eyes.

"Harvey—"

"It's just… you gave him the puppy eyes," he admitted, his eyes finding the floor. His shoes suddenly got very interesting. He knew Donna was a master at reading him, but letting her do it on her own and drawing her conclusions was a thing, while him voicing his insecurities… was another. He had _never_ gotten used to feeling unsure about something. And this time wasn't about _something _it was about _her._

"Harvey," she stroked his arm up and down, as well as his soul, "I need my fake puppy eyes with him to give poor African children a chance. But with you…" she trailed off, looking him straight in the eyes and conveying exactly how she felt. As always, they didn't need words.

Harvey immediately got it. He knew he didn't need to be assured about Donna's feelings, but it felt good to be reminded sometimes.

"You're the real thing," she whispered as she cradled his cheek and brought him down for a lingering kiss.

"Love you," Harvey said. He didn't use those words often, but when he did… _oh man. _When he did it felt like walking on air.

The bartender seized the quiet moment to hand the now softened woman her drink. Donna took it with a curt nod and hopped off her seat. Harvey eyed her in warning.

"It's for Scrooge McDuck, you idiot." She rolled her eyes playfully. "You can come with me if you promise not to act like you're the alpha male of a wolfpack."

Harvey just chuckled to himself, shaking his head and walking next to her without uttering a word. He often let his eyes rake her red-clad figure unashamedly, appreciating the soft curves of her body and her slightly wider hips, morphing and adapting to the new being growing inside of her. And then, he just stopped dead in his tracks.

Donna, who had slipped her hand in his, found herself suddenly yanked backward. She shot him a confused glare, one he couldn't see because his eyes were fixated anywhere but her face. He just stood there, mouth agape, taking her in. But it didn't feel like he was appreciating her, more like… she wouldn't know how to describe it. He was just staring.

She wasn't delusional — she knew she had been taking on a few more pounds. But for him to just make her notice like th—

"You're showing," he said. Something between disbelief, amazement, and utter affection laced those three words.

But Donna didn't catch on immediately.

"What?"

Harvey took a step forward to close the rather small gap between them. He reached for her swollen stomach and placed his hand under her bellybutton, resting there just enough to let the heat of his palm seep through the fabric of her dress and reach her skin. Maybe even what was underneath. The love of a father wanting to be connected with his child that wasn't even born.

"Donna, you're showing."

Maybe she had started to show yesterday. Or the day before. But in this exact moment — in this position, with this angle and this tight dress — he noticed for the first time. Beside the ultrasound, that was the tangible proof of the life growing inside of her. If anything, that made it even more real. It wasn't an image that, no matter how truthful, they could only spot on a screen, but something they could touch, something they could _feel._

Donna's eyes glistened until she couldn't keep it in any longer. She didn't care if she was in a room full of people, she just needed to be in Harvey's arms. So she looped her hands around his neck and held him, a surge of elation making his grip tight enough to support her weight.

"Hey!" Louis, followed by Mike and Rachel, approached the couple. Taking in the joyful moment and dying to be a part of it, he decided to clamp around their embrace, eliciting a growl from Harvey.

The tangle of limbs knocked the wind out of their lungs until Harvey unraveled it with urgency.

"So…" Louis smiled excitedly, "what are we celebrating?"

"Donna is showing!" Harvey announced, too thrilled to think twice about what was coming out of his mouth.

Mike, already aware of their little secret for months now, couldn't help but jump frantically up and down on the spot, while Louis and Rachel shared a confused look.

Harvey bit his tongue and dared a glance to Donna, relieved to see amusement and light-heartedness color her subtle frustration over his slip of the tongue.

"Go on, you can tell them." She gave him permission, squeezing his upper arm.

"You sure?"

"I am." She cocked her head, leaving her two friends in the most complete state of confusion.

Harvey, at that point, decided to put an end to their suffering, "Donna is pregnant." The grin that bloomed on his lips outstretched his cheeks, almost splitting his face in two. The proudness bubbling in his chest made him blow it like a peacock.

Rachel brought her hand to her mouth, covering the O that her lips had instantly formed upon hearing the news. Eyes coated with emotion, they soon gathered with happy tears as the friend enveloped the redhead in a tight hug.

"Oh my god!" she mumbled against her hair, commotion staining her voice. "This is so exciting. Come on, let me see." She nudged Donna playfully, as the redhead turned to give her friends a side glance of her ever-growing belly. Rachel reached for it with one hand and looked sweetly at the soon-to-be parents. "Congratulation, you guys. I cannot think of anyone who deserved it more than the two of you."

Donna was just trying to keep her emotions in check, as she tore her glossy eyes from Rachel and risked to look at Louis for the first time. His expression didn't show anything, completely unreadable. But his jaw had dropped to the floor.

Truth was, Louis' own brain was encountering some difficulties computing the information. Then, his eyes flicked between the pair, and suddenly everything made sense. Every piece was coming together — Donna's sickness, her not touching any alcohol, Harvey being extra caring and protective.

In all honesty, Louis felt a little overwhelmed by the news. He didn't get how is it that Harvey has a baby before he does, how they haven't told him sooner, and if they told him just because Donna was starting to show. The idea of the cocky lawyer and his Girl Friday that came to work at Pearson Hardman over a decade ago now raising a _child _together… it just needed some adjusting.

"I need some air," Louis choked out, looking for the exit as fast as he could.

Donna was fast on his tail, worried by the way her friend was reacting. He was known for his exaggerated reactions and the melodrama he was used to, but still, she may be feeling a little bit guilty about not telling him sooner.

Donna found him near a fountain, seated on the edge, looking at the lonely goldfish swimming around in the blue and green illuminated water. The light of the moon made his sweaty forehead shine, and she could tell he was nervous.

Donna gently approached him, careful not to startle him. When she was close enough for him to hear her, but not far enough to have to say it too loud — because it didn't get easier with time — she let him into the worst moment of her life "I had a miscarriage."

Louis' head shot up, his perplexed and sorry eyes locking with hers.

"I had a miscarriage last year. Except for the few people who found out by accident and Harvey, I didn't tell anyone. That's why opening up about this pregnancy is difficult for me. But, Louis," she seated herself next to him, offering some comfort by touching his shoulder, "I want you to know that you mean a great deal to me, and I'm so happy that I'm finally able to share this with you." She gave him a tender smile. "I hope you can forgive me."

Donna wasn't looking for a way to excuse herself, but she was equally glad when Louis said, "Donna, I completely understand. I'm so sorry for what happened to you, but I'm even more sorry if you thought that my reaction to your _amazing _news is not one of happiness. I just... I realized how much changed in a year and felt a bit overwhelmed by it all. But I am utterly ecstatic about your pregnancy, Donna. I know you will make a terrific mother. And Harvey, too."

"Harvey will make a terrific mother?" Donna laughed through the tears.

Louis just chuckled and welcomed her in his arms.

Needless to say, Donna didn't get any more money out of Scrooge McDuck that evening. She would make a more generous donation herself, but for now, it did feel like she won the goddamn lottery.

* * *

They reached the twenty-one weeks with alarming speed. Each day seemed to come to an end in the blink of an eye, and Donna was beginning to feel more and more relaxed. At that point, she had gotten used to the pregnancy, and frankly, she couldn't remember a time she wasn't with child.

_During the second trimester, your baby's fingers and toes are well-defined. His eyelids, eyebrows, eyelashes, nails, and hair are formed, and teeth and bones are becoming denser. Your baby can even suck his or her thumb, yawn, stretch, and make faces._

If you already couldn't tell, Harvey had been reading a lot of baby books recently. Maybe those were the first books he had _ever_ read.

One thing they didn't tell you in books though, was that when morning sickness subsided, your partner's libido increased rather quickly. So Harvey found himself often called into the file room, forbidden territory since day one of their relationship, for love-making sessions during the middle of the working day. He couldn't even comment on Donna's integrity, giving that she had been the one to forbid rendezvous at the office.

_God, he really loved pregnancy hormones._

Another funny thing was that the reproductive organs and genitalia of their baby were now fully developed, and Donna's doctor could see on ultrasound if they were having a boy or a girl. But the couple had decided they wanted to find out at the birth, ready to guess until the end of the pregnancy.

Harvey was sure that Donna had an idea in mind, just like he did. Probably the same, since they kept talking about names for a baby girl. And yet, they hadn't discussed it openly, giving that Harvey was fairly sure that Donna holding back was because last time it had been a boy.

It wasn't unusual for her to get caught up in thinking about what had gone wrong with her first pregnancy. It was often at night, when she laid in bed, stroking her stomach absentmindedly. He knew she loved this baby just as much, and he felt this horrible sense of impotence every time he caught her being pensive.

Once he had joined her after a long day at the firm, her limbs were sprawled on the mattress and her cushion was wet with tears. He didn't need to ask her, he knew she was reminiscing. Maybe even regretting. He had laid down behind her, throwing one leg over hers and looping an arm around her midsection.

_I'm here if you need me. I feel it, too, _he seemed to say with his nose nuzzled in the crook of her neck.

And it was then that he felt the baby kick for the first time. He had jumped into a sitting position instantly, eyes wide and silently asking Donna if she had felt it too or it had been just his imagination.

Truthfully, she had been feeling this bubbling just recently, but it was so faint that she had thought it was gas or an upset stomach. But if Harvey had felt it too…

Donna wiped her tears and kissed him deeply.

The grief was there, but she was adjusting. She definitely was.

* * *

Harvey ran out of air as he reached Heather Jones' examination room. He had reached downtown faster than a speeding bullet, but it still didn't feel nearly fast enough. It felt like he already was on borrowed time.

He had been in court the majority of the morning, and he knew that Donna had scheduled another ultrasound and was going to go by herself. He trusted Heather, more than himself probably, and that's why he had let her go on her own in the first place. Still, as he fought back the other attorney's counts for wrongful termination, he was thinking about how his baby girl or boy was doing.

Yeah, that didn't prove to be particularly helpful to focus on the case. But he couldn't help it. His priorities had changed.

When Judge Wilson had a guard slip her a folded piece of paper, Harvey and his opponent shared a perplexed look. The woman read it silently, raking her eyes across the sloppy handwriting. Then, "Mr. Specter, you are requested downtown. Your wife fainted at her medical visit, said she couldn't reach you at your phone."

His phone. _Shit. _He had planned on calling Donna during the thirty minutes recess and had turned off his phone.

Harvey bolted out of the room without even thinking about asking for a postponement — guilt over missing the appointment and anxiety for what could be happening to Donna or the baby bubbling in his chest.

When he finally got to Heather's practice, he swung the door open with a few curse words. He found Donna lying on the examining table, hand draped across her forehead and chest rising and falling rapidly. She was panicking, but she wasn't about to show it.

"You ever heard of knocking?" Heather yelled from across the room. She had the doppler pushing to the side of Donna's exposed belly.

"No way! Heather, I told you not to call him!" Donna moaned.

"And why the hell wouldn't she call me?" he said, as he approached Donna and took the hand on her face. "Why the hell did you faint?" He sounded like she was mad at her. Now that he noticed, she did seem a little pale.

"I did not _faint," _she denied, tears pricking her eyes. She stupidly felt busted.

"Yeah, she did," Heather interjected.

Donna threw her a dead glance.

"Don't look at me like that!" She scolded her, then directed her words to Harvey. "She fainted in the waiting room. At first, I thought 'look at my dumb friend trying to jump the line' but then I checked and…"

"What?" Harvey's throat constricted.

"Her placenta has partly separated from the inner wall of the uterus, and this shouldn't happen before delivery. This can decrease or block the baby's supply of oxygen and nutrients and cause heavy bleeding in the mother," Heather explained.

"So, what do we do now?" Donna asked worriedly.

"I say you stay in bed for the next couple of weeks, and then we'll see how it goes."

And so Donna did what the doctor had ordered. With Harvey constantly checking on her, she never got to leave the house once, let alone stress out. Damn, she couldn't even get up and pee alone. Instead, she indulged in books, and TV-shows, and talks over dinner in bed with Harvey.

She had stopped bleeding almost completely, did not suffer from abdominal or back pain anymore, and was positive she could get back to her normal life as soon as possible. With a few adjustments, of course.

Full of hope, she sat next to Harvey, who had quickly become her jailer, and in front of Heather a week and a half later.

"So why don't you tell me what you want to hear from me, so I say it and we can get out of here?" Donna asked with smartness and sarcasm.

"I'm sorry, Donna. But I didn't like what I saw on screen." Heather looked at the sonogram once again for good measure.

"What?"

"Donna—" Harvey said but was caught off by her sharp tongue.

"No! You don't understand. I can't go three months without moving a muscle or seeing the light of the day. I'll go crazy."

"No! _You_ don't understand! You and this baby are my life. You are far too important for me to loose possibly _both_ of you on a whim. So, shut up and do as the doctor says!" Harvey bursted out. "Goddamn it."

"He's right, Honey," Heather said with a tipped smile.

Donna noticed Harvey had balled his hands into fists, and his knuckles were turning white. He was probably disappointed in himself for lashing out at her that way, but the truth was… he was absolutely right. She took his hand in hers and brushed her thumb across his knuckles, letting him know that he was right and she wasn't mad.

"Say it." She blew out a breath.

"You're on bed rest until the end of the pregnancy."


	20. Chapter 20

**Oh well... I don't even know where to begin.**

**This has been the most incredible journey.**

**My first thank you would go to Stefanie. I've never had a beta before, and I remember being so nervous at the thought of someone else watching my job with a critical point of view. But she's been a true blessing, because not only she made me grow as a writer who uses a language that it's not her first, but she has also been the most supportive and loyal friend here. Nothing of this would have been possible without her.**

**Also, I wanted to thank everyone that has ever followed, favorited or commented on my work. I know that some of your support has been shown on Twitter, which I don't have, but just want you to know that every little word made my heart so full.**

**I never thought that this crazy journey would have been followed with such patience, faith and kindness. Without you would have been like screaming into the void.**

**I'm so sad this is over. It's been the most amazing six months. I've been through quarantine waiting for your reviews every Wednesday, and I've loved every single crazy moment of this.**

**See you soon! Meanwhile, enjoy this one last time :)**

**-Ginevra**

**Chapter 20: Catharsis**

_Third trimester _

Harvey was tired.

Every day, he went to work and dealt with whichever of his client's crisis urged him to take over. Then he went home and dealt with whichever of Donna's crisis needed his attention. And don't get him wrong, he was grateful that his colleagues held him in such high regard to let him fix their shit, and he was just as blessed to get to have Donna carrying his child again, but he was running out of patience.

There had always been someone to shoulder his bad temper and do something about it, but now that Jessica was gone and Donna was on bed rest, he felt like he was gasping for air. Not that he complained. It was just… tiresome. But maybe it was what adulting felt like. And maybe, just maybe, he should've already experienced it.

Some days were easier than others — he would close a deal sooner than expected, get home in time to have dinner in bed with Donna, and they would look at strollers and pacifiers online together until they both fell asleep.

It was nothing like his usual reckless Friday nights, where he would pick up some nameless girl in a bar and fuck every maddening thought out of his head, but he didn't mind it. He really liked it better. And he didn't say that because it was his life now and he had to live with it, but because he truly enjoyed it. He had arrived at a moment in life where he felt like he had it all. He had reached the top of the mountain, and now he felt no need to climb another one. He simply enjoyed the view.

Some days were harder than others — he would get stuck at the firm with some paperwork, he would come home to Donna exiting their bathroom with a disconsolate face and he would know she had still found spotting in her underwear. Occasionally, they would fight in the small hours until they were both too spent and then would succumb to sleep.

Harvey knew that Donna had rigorously followed Heather's instructions and was capable of taking care of herself, but as the therapy didn't seem to be very beneficial, he couldn't help but get mad. Not mad at her for disobeying the doctor's orders, but mad at the universe, or faith, or destiny (call it whatever you want) for putting them in that position.

He wished they could walk hand in hand through Central Park, watching kids playing with their parents and wondering how it would be when they would finally do the same. He wanted to take her to Breakneck Ridge again and snap a thousand pictures of her pregnancy to make an album and show it to their child on birthdays. He wanted to go to baby stores with her and buy onesies with cheesy phrases instead of going alone and sending Donna photos to pick one.

But he knew that it was a thousand times more difficult for her, not being able to move and still suffering random contractions and vaginal bleeding. She was terrified of losing this baby, and it showed, given that she hadn't wanted to find out the sex - a futile attempt of not getting too attached. As if that was possible.

So one day, Harvey had come home with a packed gift, a bold red bow staring at Donna and begging to be unwrapped. She had opened it to reveal a fetal monitor, and Harvey explained that he had bought it so that whenever she felt alone, she could always hear the baby's heartbeat. To remind her that boy or girl, bed rest or not, their baby was still very much there.

That night they had shared headphones and listened to their child's heartbeat, like the sweetest music traveling to their ears and lulling them to sleep.

That had been one of those bad-turned-into-good days.

Sometimes, Donna would call him out of the blue.

Harvey would jump every time his phone chimed — ringtone on a rigorously high volume — scared that some paramedic would be the one answering. He was happy to be proven wrong when he picked up, finding out it was just Donna, bored to tears.

Sometimes she would ask him which color of nail polish he would like better on her. Sometimes she would ask him to bring her whatever she was craving that particular day. Sometimes she would just beg him to stay on FaceTime while he worked.

Work had been hectic those couple of weeks, and the firm lacking its COO was definitely struggling in some aspects. After bed rest, there would be maternity leave, and that would be another problem. Things were changing, and they had to adapt to these changes. And even if Donna thought she would resent Harvey for going out while she was bound to stay in bed, she found out that she looked forward to the moment he would come home, snuggle next to her and fill her in about his day. Work had easily become one of their favorite topics. Donna had also noticed the baby stopped moving whenever Harvey talked about subpoenas, probably bored out of their mind.

All in all, her forced bedrest was slowly but surely coming to an end. And while Donna felt relieved thinking that she would finally be able to enjoy her baby, she also felt the trepidation and the fear that came with it. Last time had ended before she could start planning for the future, but now it felt real, tangible, and she was very much having this baby.

She couldn't help but think about how much had changed in a year. She had given in a moment of weakness with Harvey, indulging in longing and what they had yet to recognize as love, and she had gotten pregnant. She thought that not having him by her side or at least co-parenting with him was the worst thing that had happened to her. And then a crazy man came into their lives and destroyed them, taking away her sanity and her baby, and she had to cope with the unbearable feeling of grief.

Now here she was, living with Harvey and waiting for their baby to come.

Little did she know, he had been hiding a ring in one of the jars in the kitchen.

* * *

Louis had been Donna's most loyal visitor.

She enjoyed his company — talking about ballet and theatre, and hearing his crazy stories about his everyday life, which, by the way, was far more interesting than whatever show she could find on TV. He was also the only one who brought her stuff to work on from home. Of course, she had to bribe him, and they had settled on two hours tops, but it still felt like a small victory.

Today, though, it was all about watching dirty dancing for the umpteenth time, drinking tea (solidary on Louis' side), and some good old-fashioned gossiping.

"Wait a minute, so everyone thought she was covering for Marissa because she had to get checked up, but it was really because she had to get a couples' massage with her new boyfriend?" Donna asked, eyes wide and curious.

"Do you know who her new boyfriend is?" Louis sipped his tea, looking at her through his lashes.

Donna shook her head.

Louis leaned forward, as if anyone besides them could hear their conversation, and whispered, "He's Regina's nephew!"

"No way!" Her mouth hung open in a perfectly shaped 'O'. "That boy is still in diapers!"

Donna was left dumbfounded, the image of the middle-aged woman and the twenty-something man one she would very much like to get out of her head.

"Oh my god, I can hardly imagine the whole 'meet the family thing'." She cringed, shaking the awkwardness off.

Suddenly, but not so unexpectedly, a wave of pain coursed through her spine, leaving her bending over to relieve some of the pressure that was building there.

"Oh-oh." Louis placed his almost empty cup of tea on the nightstand and approached Donna's bedside. "Another one?"

The twinge left her breathless, and she couldn't muster up a word. The only thing she managed to do was nod. Louis didn't know what to do with his trembling hands, so he settled for letting them rub the small of her back, unsure whether its touch would be useful or not. Donna didn't flinch, though, so he took it as a good sign. She gripped the bedsheets, her knuckles turning white, as she blew out a long breath. After several seconds some color came back to her pale face, as her body relaxed and she let herself fall back into the cushions.

"Donna, do you think we should maybe go to the hospital?" Louis dared to ask.

"No, they're just Braxton Hicks." She tried to regulate her breath. "Had them before, hurt like bitches, but they're actually false alarms. I'm not going to wait for hours for the doctors to tell me to get back home."

Louis tried to hand her the unfinished tea when she smacked his outstretched hand, the lukewarm liquid toppling on the grey sheets. "And stop with that shit! I'm nauseous, I need something solid," she said with urgency.

Louis immediately stood up, taking the impending matter in his hands and try to grant her wishes.

"No problem at all. Uncle Louis is here to make Mom feel better." He stuck his thumbs up for a boost of positive energy and to show Donna that everything was perfectly fine. _As if._ "Sweet or savory?"

"Sweet," Donna whined, as she unsuccessfully tried to adjust the cushions behind her back.

"Be right back," Louis announced, rushing to the other room and starting to raid the cabinets.

He was taking everything he could think of, eager to do something helpful. With a quantity of food that could satisfy the majority of South Africa, he still believed his job wasn't done until he cleared all the spots. Meticulous as he was, Louis went to check the right corner of the last shelf, finding what looked like a cookie jar. When he opened it though, he didn't find some buttery treat, but a shiny ring. A delicate silver band, coupled with a bigger stone and pear-shaped side stones in platinum.

Louis let out an excited squeal that caught Donna's attention in the other room.

She slid at the edge of the bed, throwing away the soaked cotton sheets. "What is it?" she yelled for Louis to hear her downstairs.

Without care, the man discarded every single item in his hands except for the ring and ran to the bedroom to show it to Donna. He had never done so much physical activity in the span of five minutes, and he had surely never climbed two stories of stairs with such speed. The adrenaline pumping in his veins made him almost trip over the threshold of the room, as he stumbled to reach the feet of Donna's bed.

"Oh my god, look what I found!" He gasped, completely out of breath and trying to fill his lungs with as much oxygen as possible. He was on his knees and held the ring in front of Donna's face.

"Are you asking me to marry you, Louis?" Donna questioned with a side glance.

"No!" He made a face. "I found it hiding in the cookie jar!"

"And who the hell would…" Donna began but cut the sentence short as soon as those words came out of her mouth and immediately it made perfect sense. The dots connected and… _holy shit._

"Oh my god! Harvey wants to ask you to marry him!" Louis drew a conclusion, bouncing up and down excitedly.

Donna just stared at it for a moment too long, until she believed she would be left stuck with both her eyes out of their orbits.

"Oh my," Donna said, at last.

Her face twisted.

"Oh my," she repeated.

"I know!" Louis exclaimed.

"No! I'm— I'm," suddenly, another wave of pain, similar to the last one just a few minutes prior, came back full force. The contractions she had been experiencing before were nothing like this one, and they usually came in at least a span of fifteen minutes. This one had definitely been less. "I'm not sure they're just Braxton Hicks anymore."

Louis jumped into action, grabbed the list of final things that needed to be packed up as Donna sat down, and let things progress a bit more.

The emotions were so strong — each time Donna let out a scream, Louis matched it with equal vigor, almost if wanting to show her that his empathy allowed him to feel her pain.

Donna called Heather, told her she thought it was time, and the doctor, trusting her friend's impressive talent, said, "I'll see you soon!"

The couple got into the car and proceeded to the usual route to the nearest hospital, while Louis championed the whole situation, pulling up as close as he could to the cones he found on the street, flashing his lights and honking his horn.

With each contraction, Donna breathed deeply, imagining a wave building and then crashing like she had read online a couple of weeks ago.

When they finally got admitted to the hospital, after almost an hour between squats and child's pose on the bed, a doctor finally came to examine her. Much to Donna's surprise, she was already 4cm dilated, and they were going to bring her to the labor and delivery room.

It was really happening.

* * *

"_Harvey, the contractions are getting faster and stronger. They're like twenty minutes apart, so I don't think it's already time, but… you know, I just wanted to keep you posted."_

"_Harvey, don't know why you can't take a minute to answer your phone while your girlfriend is in labor, but I keep having contractions every eight to seven minutes."_

"_We just took a left at Fort Washington Avenue to 168th Street, but it's really slow. I think there's been some kind of incident. Either way, we're going to Presbyterian."_

"_You know, I'm thinking about all the ways I could murder you. WHAT ARE YOU DOING. ANSWER YOUR GODDAMN PHONE."_

"_Harvey, I'm having this baby on my own. Forget about them getting your second name. Don't even bother coming here."_

"_I lied, Harvey. I want you here. Louis keeps singing to make me feel better but I just want to DIE."_

These were the messages that Harvey found on his voicemail when he finally checked his phone.

He had been caught up in a deposition and didn't notice his phone had died. Getting no apparent sign from Donna since their connection had been cut without him knowing, he hadn't given it much thought. But when a certain hour came and he had yet to get his daily dose of her complaining about the reruns of Desperate Housewives, he got worried. And that's when he noticed.

He rushed to the hospital, already thinking about the best way to apologize to Donna, but finding none. He had shit the bed, and he knew it.

"I came as fast as I could, I'm so sorry a— What the hell is going on here?" Harvey said, entering the birthing suites and finding quite a scene.

Donna was dragging herself from one side of the room to another, clinging to a pole with a heart monitor and an I.V. attached to it. Her hideous light green and polka-dot gown flowed around her swollen body in the most unflattering way, the slippers on her feet making it difficult to move around. A thousand wires came out of her neckline, wet with the droplets of sweat falling from her sticky forehead. All the while Louis laid on the bed, feet propped on the stirrups, a book of Shakespeare's plays in hand, as he recited some lines.

"_This above all: to thine own self be true,_

_And it must follow, as the night the day,_

_Thou canst not then be false to any man."_

But Donna kept screaming and screaming, and each scream encouraged Louis to raise his voice and match her own.

Harvey's ears were blowing up, as he reached up to cover them and took one tentative step forward.

"Harvey!" They cried in unison, Donna for finally being able to yell at him because of his delay and Louis for finally being able to get away.

The nurse that was trying to regulate her breathing looked at him with a panicked expression on her face. "Is this dad?" She asked, pointing at Harvey.

"No!" Donna yelled, heading towards the bed again. "He's just the responsible for this torture," she said, rubbing her belly.

"Donna, come on…"

"Donna come on?" She yelled between gritted teeth, and Harvey could spot the peak on the monitor signaling another contraction. "Donna come on? You left me alone, dilated 6cm with Louis! _Louis_ for Christ's sake!"

"Alright guys, good luck. Call me as soon as the baby is here," Louis excused himself, taking his suit jacket and heading out of the door. One pat on Harvey's back and he was fast forgotten.

"Donna…"

"I don't want to hear it," she stopped him, moving the tiny sticky hair from her forehead. Restless and not knowing how to help herself, she got off the bed once more and unceremoniously fell on the bouncing ball. "Now I just want to hold your hand and squeeze it really bad, because I'm hurting and it's the only thing I can think about right now."

Harvey preferred not to argue, after all, he was fairly sure that her reaction was given by the hormones and the incredible amount of pain she was in. Not that he didn't feel bad for having missed the first few hours of the labor — god (and Ray) knew that he had been nervous himself on the drive to the hospital. But he was there now and had every intention of making every second worth it.

Donna kept laboring for hours. Every contraction twisted her protruding belly in a weird shape, making it rock solid. One particular contraction lasted over three minutes, constricting the baby and making their heart-rate slow down.

A bunch of other nurses came in and put Donna on oxygen. As common as that was, Harvey had never felt more scared in his life. He felt the weight of his role diminished in every sense, as Donna was the one to go through the pain and do all the work for both of them. He felt useless and lost, and completely helpless. The feeling only got worse as another one of those contractions made it necessary for Donna to get a shot, one that made her heart flutter like crazy and her whole body shake.

When no result came, the doctor decided to break her waters, and that seemed to speed things up a bit. The baby was cooperating, and the contractions were more back-to-back, so in the span of three more hours, she was finally 10cm dilated and ready to deliver naturally.

"Oh my god, I'm dying. Oh my god, I'm dying. Oh my god, I'm dying," Donna kept repeating like a mantra. "I'm done, please stop!"

The nurse in front of her widened legs seemed barely touched by her pleas, indifferent after all the times she'd ever done this. Donna was the third woman who had given birth during her shift, and she was thinking about what she would have for dinner when she had finally gotten home.

"Donna, you're just giving birth. You're not dying." Harvey tried to console her, having the opposite effect.

"And what would you know about what it feels like to give birth? Shut up!"

"Come on, Donna. I can see the head, once _that _is out it only gets easier. Give me a couple more long pushes and you get to meet your baby," Heather encouraged her, squeezing her leg.

A rare moment of quietness elapsed in the room — Donna trying to catch her breath before another wave of pain washed through her, Harvey visibly overwhelmed by the situation, the medical equipment waiting for the baby to arrive.

"Oh shit, here it comes," Donna said, as another contraction hit her.

She leaned forward so that Harvey could slide behind her and support her bent knees, giving her extra support and determination. Her fingertips bit his pant leg, leaving angry, moon-shaped, red marks. But that hardly mattered.

The only moment Donna got to rest, she was fed with the false promise that it would be over fairly soon when in reality, she had to push another five times. Harvey was worried she might pass out from one moment to the next, as she slumped against him, completely spent. Heather had forbidden her to push until the next contraction, or she would tear. But her body was fighting what came naturally, and the weight of a fully formed baby pressing down and begging to be let out was basically impossible to bear.

Harvey reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers and kissing her knuckles. He was in awe with everything she was doing to bring their baby into the world, and he felt this overwhelming sense of proudness and love filling the void that fear and apprehension had left in his chest.

He had waited for the right moment to ask her to marry him, but right now… right now it felt just perfect.

"I want to marry you," he whispered in her ear and noticed that her breath hitched. "I have the ring. I have had the ring for the longest time, but I thought that proposing before the baby came would have felt like rushing things and after, we wouldn't have time, and I _know_ that this is the last thing on your mind, but I love you. And I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you."

"I know," Donna cried. "About the ring," she added for more clarity.

"You found it? Damn it, you weren't supposed—"

"Yes," Donna said all of the sudden, snapping her head around as her eyes flashed up to meet his. "Of course I want to marry you," she said, dropping a lingering kiss to Harvey's lips before another contraction hit her.

The next round went smoother than the others. Donna seemed to have gained more trust in herself and saw the ultimate goal come nearer and nearer. At this point, it just felt like trying to push over her limits, and she pushed long, and deep, and hard until she felt nothing other than the pressure. It built, built, and built, until…

It was gone.

Harvey caught a glimpse of his baby sliding out of Donna's body, excitement building up as she hadn't wanted him to have a view them coming out of her lady parts. This was the first time he could actually _see_ what his child looked like, and he couldn't get enough. He wanted _more_. The redhead instantly collapsed back into his chest, as Heater showed them a really tiny baby — all pink, and wrinkled, and angry for being pulled out of his quiet home.

"It's a boy!" she announced jovially, placing the bundle of joy, barely wrapped in a towel, on his mother's chest for skin-to-skin contact.

Donna and Harvey's eyes shot down to their son, catching the first time he opened his eyes to see the world around him. _Here I am, _they seemed to say. The moment the three pairs of dark eyes met, the world halted. Now everything made sense. The planets had aligned, the sky was bluer and the birds chirped louder.

There was clarity for the first time in their life.

"Does he have a name yet?" Heater smiled from her position.

Donna and Harvey shared a knowing look — they had already decided weeks prior.

"Benjamin," Harvey responded. "Benjamin Michael Paulsen-Specter," he said his son's full name out loud for the first time, and his voice broke with emotion and proudness.

"Hi Ben," Donna cooed to her baby boy, as he angrily scratched his face and cried his lungs out. "Oh, I know. That's a rather scary world, but don't worry. We've got you," she promised, as Harvey dropped a kiss to the side of her head, and reached to wipe some blood out from his baby's eyebrow.

Donna and Harvey stared at the little one they had created from scratch, and realized that, as it all came down to their beautiful son, they had never been more sure — every sacrifice had been worth it.


End file.
